And when the Dragon, sated with the blood Of Christian men and women, yields at length To a mild victor, Tigers of the Sea Shall come, from craggy homes, to rend and tear, And brave men’s hearts shall quail before their eyes-- Yet still shall Arthur sleep in Avalon.
The Tigers’ wrath appeased, another foe Shall wave a foreign banner o’er the land, And trample down beneath his horses’ hoofs Briton, and Dane, and Saxon, till the ground Is rank with blood, as when upon the slopes Of Badon Arthur charged the heathen host-- Yet still the King shall sleep in Avalon.
But as the ages pass, these foes shall join In friendship, and a nation shall arise, Like a strong oak amid the forest trees, Which, growing slowly, ceases not to grow, But fastens firmly, as it aims aloft, And spreads its branches far on every side, A shelter to the stranger of all lands-- While Arthur still sleeps on in Avalon.
And many Kings shall rule and win renown For this now saddened and distracted realm; And Britain shall be great by land and sea, And stretch her conquering arms around the world, And gather treasures from all climes, and teach Her tongues to distant nations, and her name Shall be a word of praise to all the earth-- While Arthur still sleeps on in Avalon. But though he sleep, he still shall wear the crown As rightful lord of Britain, for on him,-- The image of a noble Christian King, The image of a ruler sent of God,-- The people still shall look in whoso reigns. And if there be a King of soul impure-- Or if there be a King of hand unjust-- Or if there be a King who weighs himself Against the nation’s weal (such Kings there are And ever shall be until Arthur wake),-- It is the _real_ King the people serve, The Blameless Prince that never can do wrong, And not the false usurper of his name.”
Then, wondering much, broke in Sir Bedivere: “O Merlin, thou art far too wise for me, Though well I love thy speech. But, in good sooth, And plainly, as we speak of common things, Answer me: Will the King come back again In his own fleshly guise, the very same As when he feasted erst in Camelot With all the Table Round? And will he wear The crown, and gird him with Excalibur, And conquer heathen foes, and rid the land Of all that speaketh lies or doeth wrong?-- Or, must he sleep for ever, and his face Be hid away from those that love him well? For, if I thought that it were so to be, I never could have comfort in my life.”