Page:Poems that every child should know (ed. Burt, 1904).djvu/293

Rh But o'er the dark a glory spreads,

And gilds the driving hail.

I leave the plain, I climb the height;

No branchy thicket shelter yields;

But blessèd forms in whistling storms

Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

A maiden knight—to me is given

Such hope, I know not fear;

I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven

That often meet me here.

I muse on joy that will not cease,

Pure spaces cloth'd in living beams,

Pure lilies of eternal peace,

Whose odours haunt my dreams;

And, stricken by an angel's hand,

This mortal armour that I wear,

This weight and size, this heart and eyes,

Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

The clouds are broken in the sky,

And thro' the mountain-walls

A rolling organ-harmony

Swells up, and shakes and falls.

Then move the trees, the copses nod,

Wings flutter, voices hover clear:

"O just and faithful knight of God!

Ride on! the prize is near."

So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;

By bridge and ford, by park and pale,

All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,

Until I find the holy Grail.

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