Ralph Adams Cram - Excalibur - Act I, Scene II lyrics

SCENE II. Carlion. The crown of a low, wooded hill: the royal pavilion in the midst. In front Sir Pelleas, lying wounded, Ettard nursing him. Around are other Knights with Monks dressing their wounds. Sunset: the sound of battle without. Enter at a galop, Sir Tor. Sir Pelleas. How goes the fight? Sir Tor. As some enormous flood That thunders down the mountain, rolling on Inexorable. Sir Pelleas. Stay, for God's love, Tor, And ease my wounds with word of victory. The king prevails? Sir Tor. Thou speakest as a fool! The boy fights even as St. Michael fought, And rebel kings fall headlong from his stroke As fell the devil's angels. Stay me not, I ride with word for Launcelot. (Exit) Sir Pelleas. Sir Tor! He goes, and all my wounds burst out afresh. Ettard, I follow him! Give me my shield! Ettard. Nay, sweet, fair knight, bethink thee of thy case, Thou could'st not lift a sword; see how thine arm Turns rebel to thine whole, unwounded will. Abide a little. Sir Pelleas. Aye, and house me here Like any whining churl, the while the fight Roars loud and lusty, howling in mine ear To rise and follow. Give me drink! My shield! Ettard, bring me my shield! If I must die At least I'll die where steel is biting steel, Not in a woman's arms. Ettard. Thou shalt not die, For here I hold thee, maugre thy headlong will. See, dear my lord, thou canst not rive the clasp Of my two arms, and wouldst thou lead the fight? Content thyself. Sir Pelleas. Out on the scurvy knave That did me this disworship! (Enter Duke Lucas, wounded.) Who is come, Forspent, and gaping with such grimly wounds? Sir knight, what word? Duke Lucas. The day is well-nigh won, But for this vile and most felonious wound I needs must lose the glory of the end. Certes, the villain that did me this trick Fell, cleft in halves unto the saddle bow, But all too late. Sir Pelleas. Look thou to him, Ettard, He falls. Sir monk, come hither: look afield, Canst thou see ought? Monk. Naught, save a whirling storm Of dust that rolls in dun and sullen clouds Along the meadows. Think not of the battle But of thyself: perchance thou art to die. Art thou a**oiled? Sir Pelleas. d**h lingers not for me, Do as I bid thee: tell me of the fight. Monk. The cloud is broken: towards the sinking sun A thousand - nay, ten thousand men drive on Dismayed, disordered. Sir Pelleas. Whose the banner? Speak! Monk. I mark no banner, but the shields are round. Sir Pelleas. St. George, an altar for thee, 'tis the Scots! What else? Monk. The dust is lifted like a fog: East, north, and south men hurl across the plain, And on their flanks swords flash as lightning. Ha! I mark the crest of Garlot. Sir Pelleas. Fleeing, monk? Monk. Aye, like a champion coursing down the lists, So fast. Sir Pelleas. The king, canst see the king? Monk. Not yet. Hold! by the Ma**, the fight is at an end. A mighty shout comes winging on the wind, And down the field the dragon-crested knights Come spurring wonderly. Sir Pelleas. God save the king! Duke Lucas. What cry is that? Quick, lift me higher, girl! Who says the fight is won? Monk. The king, the king! The pageant opens, and I see him ride With whirling sword before the shouting knights; God save King Arthur! Sir Pelleas. Grip me round the waist And lift me, so, good monk: I see the king! Omnes. God save King Arthur! Hail Pendragon! Hail! (Enter: King Arthur, Sir Launcelot, Sir Tor, Sir Ector, Sir Kay, Duke Brastias, and Knights, mounted.) King Arthur. So fight the saints for England, and the tide Of treason that rose darkling on the land To 'whelm Pendragon's House and heritage, Is halted, broken, utterly dispersed In shallow ripples sobbing o'er the fields. Now soars the Dragon to the shouting sky, Exalted high, unchallenged, undismayed; England is free, for God has won the day! Sir Launcelot. By thee, King Arthur, for thy royal hand Struck down the enemies of England's crown As I thought not to see the like thereof. Thine was the victory, for since he rode, The king, thy father, in the latest fight, And heaved his mighty sword, with palsied arm Made iron by the grace of England's God, Such prowess has not been. Sir Pelleas. King Arthur, hail! God save the man that saved a kingdom! Omnes. Hail! God save the king! King Arthur. Give me no honour, lords; What brought I, save the brawn of rugged arms? If ye would glorify the holy thing That won the day, look on this awful Sword That hews untramelled victory, whoe'er May hap to wield him. Hail Excalibur, And heap your thanks on Merlin, not on me. Sir Launcelot. On thee and Merlin and Excalibur All England casts the tribute of her praise, But thou art first for that thou art the king, And he that climbs to clutch the royal crown From off thy riven helmet, from this day Must reckon first on dolorous debate With every man that backed thee in the field. Sir Brastias. And first with me; I want the trick of words, That am for fighting, not for parliament, But I confess thee king. My sword is thine; What Brastias gives he takes not back again. King Arthur. As I am king, I pledge Pendragon's name Thou gainest, Brastias, no cause from me To ask it ever. Sir Launcelot. Come, victorious king. Avoid thy steed for easing of thy limbs, The while thou dost refresh thy taxèd strength With meat and drink: we fight no more to-day. Rest on thy victory. King Arthur. Give me thine hand, And for a narrow space I'll halt me here The while my hounds shall harry to their holes The crownèd wolves of treason. Fair Sir Tor, Look thou that all the knights and men at arms Be well disposed. Of thy good grace, Sir Kay, I pray thee see that all who are on live, Yet sorely wounded, have such ministry As fits their case; and thou, Sir Launcelot, Hold thou by me: I need thy councilment. (Exeunt all but King Arthur, Sir Launcelot, Duke Lucas, and Monk.) Duke Lucas. d**h frights me not, now I have seen the sun Go down upon this wondrous victory. Lift me, good monk: king, I am sore bested With searching wounds. I may not see thee fight Again for England, but if I must die I die thy va**al. King Arthur. 'Tis Duke Lucas's voice That hails me from a mask of sorry wounds! The sun of victory is in eclipse If thou art sinking towards a grievous end. Grip hard upon the hilt of life, my lord, And thou shalt brandish it against the foe On many fields ere yet thy day is done. Duke Lucas. I fear me, king, my sun is on the rim Of d**h's horizon. Let it go: content Am I to follow, now the field is won. King Arthur. That shalt thou not. Good father, guard him well, And thou shalt be an abbot for thy pains. Would well my Merlin followed in the field, For he is sk**ed in cunning medicine. Has any seen him? (Exit Duke Lucas and Monk.) Sir Launcelot. Aye, King Arthur, horsed Upon a frightful steed as black as hell, That gnashed with foaming teeth and bloody jaws Against the horses whilst his master fought: A baleful spectacle. King Arthur. Did Merlin fight? Meseemed his weapons were the fateful stars, His hauberk fearsome magic. Sir Launcelot. Aye, he fought, And wonderly, for whereso'er he rode The traitors opened from him in amaze, Nor could endure the lightning of his eye. King Arthur. 'Tis very strange: but marvels fall as rain Each day in England. Tell me, Launcelot, The while we drink and quench the flame of fight, Bore I myself as fits Pendragon's son There in the press of battle? Sir Launcelot. Good my lord, St. Michael in the charge of heavenly hosts Against the devil fought not in such wise. King Arthur. Nay, answer not with any courtier's tongue, I crave no words of fawning flattery. Speak as a provèd knight unto a squire That feutred maiden spear along the lists And rides victorious. Was is it rightly done? Pardie! I know not. Sir Launcelot. Aye, 'twas bravely done. And thou hast routed, not alone the foe, Orkney and Carados, the King of Scots, The traitor Garlot - God alone can tell The number of the kings - but more than all Thou hast o'erthrown the last of them that mocked Against thy majesty. King Arthur. God grant 'tis so, But flame stamped out oft bursts again anew. I would the day were ten good years agone When I did gain the crown. Sir Launcelot. Ten years of years Could fix it no more firmly on thy brow. Pendragon's blood confirms Pendragon's seed. King Arthur. How runs the rune, Sir knight? "Pendragon's seed Shall slay Pendragon:" Sir Launcelot. Nay, "Pendragon's seed Shall reign, Pendragon, on Pendragon's throne." King Arthur. I think me of the other. Sir Launcelot. Why, my lord? King Arthur. For that the fire of fight within my veins Is fading, and the dark of coming things Looms close upon me. Tell me, Launcelot, Woulds't thou be king? Sir Launcelot. Aye, sir, an' thou wert not. King Arthur. Take thou the crown! Sir Launcelot. What jest is this, King Arthur? King Arthur. No jest, good Launcelot, as I do find. Seven days I've called it mine, and on each day It waxed a pound in weight. A weary thing, An irksome, weary thing, a royal crown; Yet men would sell their souls to feel it cling Around their brows, and hate it when 'twas won. (Enter Merlin at back.) Sir Launcelot. This sadness likes me not. King Arthur. 'Tis gone again. A pa**ing mood begotten of the mist That blots the future: think no more of it. My Launcelot, a most untoward thing Is this that meets me: for a maiden joust Fierce war with mighty kings, and for the prize A crown and kingdom. Merlin. It is well contrived To match the marvels that shall follow, king. Upon the deep foundation thou hast laid This day, shall rise a fabric such as men Saw not, nor shall again. Great England's crown Shall widen in its circuit till it rings An empire that would blind with sore amaze High Cæsar thronèd in the crowding walls Of awful Rome. For such high destiny Most meet it is the crown come on this wise. King Arthur. I give thee greeting, Merlin: knight thou art And no more wizard, but a man of war, Therefore, Childe Merlin art thou. Gentle knight, How like ye warfare? Were the stars unkind That thou should'st flout them for a naked sword? Nathless I thank thee, for upon the oath Of chivalry, I do believe the day Was won by thee. Merlin. Mock me no jest, Sir king, For years and wisdom cannot curb the hand That itches for a sword when steel and steel Are clanging music in the listening ear No more of that; thou art anointed king With traitors' blood: the chrism of my lord Of Canterbury can avail no more. So now, to horse, and ride for Camelot! King Arthur. And let the traitor foxes find their holes, Nor scourge them for their treason? Merlin. Let them be. Already on their borders press the foe, And flame and slaughter hotly call them home; They may not hinder thee. The war is done, Now statecraft clamours for thee. King Arthur. I am fain To harry them a little - Ha! Sir Tor, What tidings of the chase? (Enter Sir Tor.) Sir Tor. The sky is clear. Like fleeting mist before the rising sun, The foe has melted into little clouds That, driven by the wind of victory, Scud aimless, formless, blind with blanching fear. Shall we pursue? Merlin. Bethink thee well, King Arthur. King Arthur. Call back the knights, we rest here till the dawn; To-morrow we will lie at Camelot And call a Parliament. (Exit Sir Tor.) Merlin. 'Tis well resolved. Thou hast approved thy right to wear the crown, Upon the field. Prove thou the sceptre thine, The sword of justice and the golden orb, As thou shalt prove them in thy Parliament, And thou art king indeed. (Enter Sir Kay.) Sir Kay. My lord, a va**al But lately fighting 'gainst thy majesty Is come, repentant of his evil mood, To do thee worship. King Arthur. We will greet him kindly; Bring him before us. Merlin. King, be on thy guard! There's more of treason than the bearing arms Against thee in the field. King Arthur. I am the King Of England, - all of England, - and I hold No hatred 'gainst a va**al that repents Of treason, asking pardon. (Enter King Uriens and Queen Morgan.) King of Gore, And thou, our sister, welcome! Merlin (aside) Loathly witch, I scent thy craft in this! Now Merlin, watch, For danger climbs the steps of Arthur's throne. Morgan. King Arthur, here we yield us to thy grace. Thou art approvèd king: in va**alage We humbly kneel and swear liege loyalty. King Arthur. Thou art our sister, Morgan, but not king: So let him speak. King Uriens. I do confess the proof And hail thee King of England. King Arthur. On thy knees Thou shalt swear fealty at Camelot To-morrow. Seneschal, into thy charge We give the King of Gore, and Morgan, queen, And sister unto England. Merlin. Guard them shrewdly, Sir Kay, but look thou to the lady With double cunning. Morgan. So, the sorcerer Still props the throne! We do confess the king, But not his master, Merlin. Merlin. As thou shalt! (Enter: Sir Ector and Duke Brastias.) Sir Ector. My lord, Sir Ulfius is well returned From hounding Lot adown the western wind, And with him bruit of war hard here at hand By Rience, King of Wales, 'gainst thine ally, Leodegrance, King of Cameliard. Sir Launcelot. How say'st thou, sir? King Arthur. Is Rience loose again? I hate him well, the wolfish King of Wales. A most felonious, false-hearted knave, While King Leodegrance held by our House In hearty friendship. How says Ulfius Touching the battle, Ector? Sir Ector. King Rience Prevails most wonderly. Leodegrance Is prisoned in his castle, close beset By howling hoards of lewd and savage men That cease not from the siege. The king is lost If succour comes not swiftly. Sir Launcelot. Jesu Christ, Hold back the hasty sun! King Arthur. How say ye, lords? We are forefoughten, but the peril looms Close on Leodegrance. Shall we essay This brave adventure? Duke Brastias. Wait until the morrow, We cannot fight with bodies that cry out For mercy. March at dawn; Leodegrance Must hold a little longer. Sir Launcelot. Good my lord, In God's name grant this boon that on my knees I ask of thee! March for Cameliard This night, this very hour! Thou knowest not That all my life is prisoned with the king, And even now, mayhap, the black Rience Is bursting through the walls to hale them forth, Thine ally, and the lady Guenever That I do love. King Arthur, give no heed To cautious council, but be moved by me If thou dost love me. King Arthur. Fair Sir Launcelot, Thy love leaps with my liking. Sound the horns, And strike the camp as lightly as ye may. On to Cameliard! (Trumpet without. Enter many Knights.) Sir Launcelot. My life is thine, King Arthur, ask it of me when ye will. On to Cameliard! King Arthur. My lords, my knights, My hardy men of England, King Rience, The which we loath since he doth hate us well And holds against us, strikes Leodegrance, Our sworn ally. Around the castle walls A rabble army all disworshipful Howls loud for blood and booty. We are knights, Sworn by our knighthood ever to afford All aid to them that suffer evil hap. For high adventure march we forth to-night Into Cameliard. To-morrow's sun Shall see us well discharged of our devoir, And Rience beaten back into his lair. Let honour stay our hunger, ease our limbs, Here rest we not. Cry, "d**h to King Rience!" On, for the worship of our chivalry! (Exeunt, leaving Merlin standing before the pavilion, King Uriens and Queen Morgan at back. The stage is quite dark.) Merlin (seating himself beneath the pavilion.). All pa**eth as an ordered pageantry, And without hinderance the great design That gathered perfect form within my brain Takes shape and substance. So I stand with God, Who did conceive the project of a world And give it being, in that I may weave A splendid fabric where the warp and woof Are little lives that, like a tangled web Of knotting threads, would break and haul awry Did I not play the part of destiny. Morgan. See where the grim magician sits him down Upon the throne of his poor puppet king In guise of majesty. 'Tis well devised; He is the king! King Uriens. And must we bear with this That hold the throne of right from Queen Igraine, Nor lift a hand against this trickery? Morgan. Thy sword is by thee, strike for England now! King Uriens. The king is gone. Morgan. The king is in thy reach! King Uriens. How mean ye, Merlin? Morgan. Hush! he speaks again. Merlin. What man is there would crouch beneath a crown And be the target of a thousand swords, When he might stand unseen behind the throne To marshal armies, overthrow estates, And fashion kingdoms by his sovereign will? There lies the potency of royalty Hid in a little word. Prevailing will, The essence of the Godhead, and the sign That shows in man the imagery of God. King Uriens (aside). Shall I not strike him now? Morgan. Unless thine arm Is palsied with thy years. Give me the sword! King Uriens. I am no dotard, topling on the brim Of black eternity. Morgan. Then strike thou home! (Uriens approaches Merlin from the back of the pavilion and lifts his sword to stab him.) Merlin. What menace threats me? (He rises: Uriens strikes him from behind, the sword turning blunted from the stroke.) Fool! I k** thee not, For that thou art none other than the tool Of one that is hell's proxy in the fight Betwixt us. Morgan, lightly stand thou forth The while I give thee council. Morgan. Mark me, then, For like a bloodhound nosing down the trail I follow thee, Sir Merlin, to the end. Merlin. With weapon such as this? I would not move An hand's breath from my course for fear thereof. Thy wit forsakes thee, Morgan, dost thou think To cope with Merlin? Marshal in their might The quaking spirits of the Magic Mere And hurl them on me, they shall fright me not Nor let me from my labour. I am he That God has made His deputy on earth. I am incarnate will, and I abide Forever scathless. Thou art futile craft And this thy tool is blind and senseless force. Shall either match me that am perfect will Untrammelled, unconditioned? Get thee gone And sink thy deep dishonour in the sea, Nor sally forth to mock me with the jest Of potent hinderance. I am thy lord, For I am will and wisdom, and I stand Unhampered of thine idle enmity Until my task is ended: until God Reigns absolute in England, and the day Of righteousness shall lighten on the land. My will prevails: content thee with thy doom. Curtain.