Westward where the latest sunbeam lingers on the brow of night, Lies a land of old romance enshrined in amethystine sea, Where from cairn and cromlech come, to eyes illumed by subtle sight, Fays and pixies, sprites and gnomes, in pomp of faery pageantry.
Shining forms of ghostly knights, and dream-like dames of chivalry Gleam among the gorse and furze, and pace the reedy valleys low, Moving through a magic mist amid the days of long ago — Knights and ladies living still in trusted legendary lore
Lilt their lovelorn lays or speed their clamorous challenge to the foe In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn shore. Gauntly glooms Tintagel Castle from its frowning, dizzy height, Where the fair Iseult is crooning happy songs in thoughtless glee;
Softly falls the creeping footstep, sudden flash the sparks of spite, Lifeless lies the love-led Tristram lowly at his lady's knee, Past the stress of wandering sorrow, past the philtred esctasy. Then there breaks the sound of slaughter, clanging blow on clanging blow,
Clash of brand and crash of axe, while shrieks shrill up from deeps below, Where the sea's majestic music mixes with the mortal roar. Still the ghostly field engages, still the tides of battle flow In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn shore.
Down the rugged slopes of Rough Tor ancient heroes armour dight, Charge across the bridge of slaughter where the mist hangs heavily. There the brand Excalibur goes flashing through the last dim fight Wielded by the stainless king who fighting falls his wierd to dree.
Then across the mere there come a silent, shadowy, queenly, three, Golden crowned, who bear him off with bitter tears of quenchless woe Unto valleyed Avilon, where falls not rain, nor hail, nor snow, Nor the faith unfaithful brings a dolorous doom for ever-more.
Still across the dream lit waters moves the stately shadow show In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn shore.
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