Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/260

 Herself to nothing with her beads and candles. There's nature, and what's in us, to be sifted Before we know ourselves, or any man Or woman that God suffers to be born. That's how I speak ; and while you strain your mazard, Like Father Jove, big with a new Minerva, We'll say, to pass the time, that I speak well. God's fish! The King had eyes; and Lancelot Won't ride home to his mother, for she's dead. The story is that Merlin warned the King Of what's come now to pass ; and I believe it And Arthur, he being Arthur and a king, Has made a more pernicious mess than one, We're told, for being so great and amorous: It's that unwholesome and inclement cub Young Modred I'd see first in hell before I'd hang too high the Queen or Lancelot; The King, if one may say it, set the pace, And we've two strapping bastards here to prove it. Young Borre, he's well enough; but as for Modred, I squirm as often as I look at him. And there again did Merlin warn the King, The story goes abroad; and I believe it." Sir Bedivere, as one who caught no more Than what he would of Lamorak's outpouring, Inclined his grizzled head and closed his eyes Before he sighed and rubbed his beard and spoke: "For all I know to make it otherwise, The Queen may be a nun some day or other; I'd pray to God for such a thing to be, If prayer for that were not a mockery. We're late now for much praying, Lamorak, When you and I can feel upon our faces A wind that has been blowing over ruins