And the sunlight, pouring through them, on the shining armour gleamed Gleamed on all the banners bright that over every chieftain streamed, Gleamed upon the golden flagons, and the monarch's flashing sword Laid before him, and his silver beard down flowing on the board. Floating in there came a murmur, of the trees that whispered near, Of the river babbling to the reeds in accents low but clear, Of the birds, and of sweet silver voices from the green alcove, Where GINEVRA and her maidens prattled of their champions' love. Silent were the knights, and in that happy meditative mood, Which an ample meal induces, each his brother warriors viewed, Thus they sat, and each upon the table laid his brawny hand, Idly musing, till SIR TOR, the youngest of the mighty band, Crying, "Why, the table's moving!" pressed against SIR DINADAN Sitting next him, and impelled him gently towards the good KING BAN. BAN on BORS, and BORS on PELLES, PELLES on SIR GARETH leant; GARETH, bending over GAWAIN, GAWAIN over TRISTREM bent; Thus as each, from each escaping, other upon other drove, All, in what logicians call a vicious circle, 'gan to rove, And the table, twirling with them, seemed to each excited mind, Though they pushed it on beside them, to be leaving them behind. Fast and faster flew the table; faster every champion flew, Till the swords, the helms, the banners, flagons, dishes, faces too, Merged in one vast whirling body, many-hued and globiform, (Like an old Cartesian whirlwind, or a rotatory storm), With KING ARTHUR in the centre, twirling in his royal chair, And his great beard like a pennon streaming on the troubled air. So till now they had been whirling, puffing, stamping, night and day: But SIR ECTOR tripping, stumbled suddenly on proud SIR KAYE: As the first impulsive push went, so the fall went circling round, Till the knights, each prone on each like cards, lay panting on the ground. "Certes!" said the good KING ARTHUR, soon as he had breath to speak, And had wiped the dust from off his draggled beard and pallid cheek, "Certes! These be great adventures, such as I remember not, Ever since the death of MERLIN, to have come to Camelot; One 'Seat Perilous' he fashioned, when he framed this board for me; But, if thus it takes to moving, perilous each seat will be. Doth its wild unwonted motion then portend some dire mishap? Doth some hidden danger threaten to our crown?"--A sudden rap Low but clear within the wall the monarch's wise discourse broke down Saying, plain as rap _could_ say, "A rap is threatened to thy crown." "Perdy!" said the startled monarch. "What strange visitant thus shocks All our ears at such a moment? It must be the ghost of--" Knocks Two or three upon the wall came, ere "of MERLIN," he could say. Then SIR LANCELOT stepped before him, as the echoes died away. "If a knight should fly from knocks, 'twould surely be a parlous shame," Said he. "Wherefore to accomplish this adventure I shall claim. I will take my horse and spear and journey down to Caer Lud, Where 'LINETTE, the damsel sauvage,'[1] dwells beside the Fleet's clear flood; All the meaning of this marvel she shall tell, and let me see All the glories of the future, and the wonders that shall be. Ho! Sir Butler, bring me quickly four men's shares of wine and meat, That, as much as may suffice me for my journey, I may eat." Seemed to him, as forth he journeyed, that the land was passing strange; Was it sooth, or was it glamour that had worked so great a change? For the moorland and the woodland, where with horse, and hound, and horn, He had chased the boar and aurochs, glowed with summer's ripening corn; At the well known fording-places stately bridges stemmed the tide, Turnpikes, 'stead of knights or giants, barred his way on either side; Feeble women, damp and dingy, for a trifle came to show All the ruins of the castles he had kept with many a blow; And where cross-roads met, and where the best adventures once had been, Whitewashed sign-posts bade him turn to Frogmore Pound, or Pogis Green. Now and then athwart his course came, with a rumble and a scream, Green and golden creatures, glaring fierce, and breathing fire and steam, Seemed that each was dragging on a thousand victims at the least: "By my knighthood," quoth SIR LANCELOT, "this must be 'the questing beast;' Something rusty have I grown by dwelling there at peace so long, For ever eating of the fat, and ever drinking of the strong, Yet with stout and knightly valour I shall dress me to the fight;" But, before his lance was couched, "the questing beast" was out of sight.