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King Arthur: A Drama in a Prologue and Four Acts... - Primary Source Edition
Joseph Comyns Carr
No preview available - 2014
Agra Arth Arthur beneath Caerleon canst chaunt Chorus Clarissant crown Dagonet dare dead death Didst thou Dost thou doth dream edition Elaine England's Excalibur Exeunt Exit eyes false Fate fear feet fool Gaoler Gawaine Guin hand hath hear heard Heaven hither Holy Grail hour John Morley King King Arthur kneel knew Knights know'st lady Lavaine leave lips live lord madam Merlin Mord Morg mortal naught Pendragon's perchance POETICAL pray Queen quest Ryons scabbard Scene seek the Grail shame Sir Agravaine Sir Bedevere Sir Dagonet Sir Kay Sir Lancelot Sir Mordred sleep smile soul speak stands sure sweet tell thee in Guinevere There's thine thou art thou hast thou shalt thou wouldst throne thy heart thy love thy sword thyself tongue Traitor truth turns twas twill voice vows Wait for thee Wherefore word wouldst thou
Page 67 - Globe" edition, but carefully amended from the latest " Cambridge " edition. The numbering of the lines will be identical with that in the ** Globe " edition, so that the references so commonly made to that edition will also apply to the " Temple " edition. Hand-made Paper especially manufactured by Van Gelder will be used, and each page will have the Act and Scene printed in red for ease of reference. The Binding will be in two styles: Limp cloth at 45 cents, and paste-grain roan at 65 cents, per...
Page 63 - Guinevere. He's gone, the light of all the world lies dead. Merlin. Not so : he doth but pass who cannot die, The King that was, the King that yet shall be : Whose spirit, borne along from age to age, Is England's to the end. Look where the dawn Sweeps through a wider heaven, and on its wings, By those three Queens of night his barge is borne To that sweet Isle of Avalon whose sleep Can heal all earthly wounds. If Tennyson has idealised King Arthur and tended to modernise him, John Masefield has...
Page 50 - tis so; Take back that word, and none shall know 'twas said! Ah! call it back again, and lift the pall Death spreads upon my heart; so shall I kneel And bless thee, and this sword shall strike him dumb That dares to whisper aught against my Queen. [ She stands immovable, Is this so much to ask? Ay, all too much! There is no might can give back to the Spring Its lowliest flower dead under changing skies; Then how should I, with winter at my heart, Plead with the ruined summer for its rose?