erd in _The Prelude_, Book VIII.

When up the lonely brooks on rainy days
Angling I went, or trod the trackless hills
By mists bewildered, suddenly mine eyes
Have glanced upon him distant a few steps,
In size a giant, stalking through thick fog,
His sheep like Greenland bears, or as he stepped
Beyond the boundary line of some hill-shadow,
His form hath flashed upon me, glorified
By the deep radiance of the setting sun,

191-192. AND ON A SUDDEN--MOON. "Do we not," writes Brimley, "seem to
burst from the narrow steep path down the ravine, whose tall precipitous
sides hide the sky and the broad landscape from sight, and come out in a
moment upon--

"the level lake,
And the long glories of the winter moon!"

193. HOVE=hove in sight.

The closing scene in this drama is impressively described by Malory. "So
Sir Bedivere came again to the King, and told him what he saw. 'Alas,'
said the King, 'help me hence, for I dread me I have tarried over long.'
Then Sir Bedivere took the King upon his back, and so went with him to
that water side. And when they were at the water side, even fast by the
bank hoved a little barge, with many fair ladies in it, and among them
all was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and all they wept and
shrieked when they saw King Arthur. 'Now, put me into the barge,' said
the King: and so they did softly. And there received him three queens
with great mourning, and so they set him down, and in one of their laps
King Arthur laid his head; and then that queen said; 'Ah, dear brother,
why have ye tarried so long from me? Alas, this wound on your head hath
caught overmuch cold.' And so then they rowed from the land; and Sir
Bedivere beheld ail those ladies go from him. Then Sir Bedivere cried;
'Ah, my Lord Arthur, what shall become of me now ye so from me, and leave
me here alone among mine enemies?' 'Comfort thyself,' said the King:,
'and do as well as thou mayest, for in me is no trust for to trust in.
For I will into the vale of Avilion, to heal me of my grievous wound.
And if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul.' But ever the
queens and the ladies wept and shrieked, that it was pity to hear. And,
as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and
wailed, and so took the forest, and so he went all that night. . . . . ."

It is interesting to note how the poet suggests here and there the
phrasing of his original, but even more inter