THE ENDING OF GUINEVERE.

Otago Witness, Issue 1905, 25 May 1888, Page 29

THE ENDING OF GUINEVERE.

By Douglas B. W. Sladkn, 81. (Author of "In Cornwall " and ' ' Across the Sea.") , (Concluded.)' The Chronicler Giraldus, When the monks unsealed the tomb, Three things above all other Observedamid the gloom, — The giant bones of Arthur, And the wounds that dealt his doom. And far above these marvels twain, The famous golden hair Wrapped round the Queen from head to heel, As gloriously fair As when it meshed Sir Launcelot And Arthur in its snare. But lo 1 as swift they raised her To love it in the light, Bethinking how it's splendour All ages should delight, It crumbled into dust and air Before their cheated sight. It had fulfilled its missionTo help us to believe The story that true minstrels In ancient days did weave, But men in their new wisdom Are tardy to receive. And reading old Giraldus, We muse with chastened mind. How round the realm's two noblest hearts Those gleaming locks were twined; In thrall of the disloyal Queen To their last) beat to bind. , And reading old Giraldus We faucy once again, The whole sweet, sad old stoiy, In the Fourth King Edward's reign, By Master William Caxton Flrßt printed In Britaine; Of Arthur and his wooing, And Merlin's prophecy, Of Launcelot's undoing And the Queen's agony, When Agravaine andModred Upon their love played spy ; Of Arthur's own undoing, When his most pussiant knight From hia right hand was banished In his last bitter fight, Fought with the false Sir Modred Hard by Tlntagel's height ; And then of bold Sir Bedivere, And the hurling of the brand Into the lake enchanted, And the barge that drew to land With three mysterious Queens, who bore King Arthur from the strand ; Of Guinevere's repentance In cloistered Almesbury, How Launcelot she met not Save with the Sisters by, And bade him come to her no more Till he or she should die ; And lastly of the ending, When the last of Arthur's knights, Not now in their bright armour Clashed in a hundred fights But in monks' hoods of hodden, Paid her the last sad rites, And bore her on a litter Down to St. Joseph's fane, To lie beside King Arthur As wife and queen again, Washed by long years of penance From her love s glitteriug stain. " Somebody Else's Dog."— This contribution, in last week's issue, was unintentionally printed without the signature " Wych Elm."