No More Learning

"I'm little Dagonet, your fool," sobbed the little jester, "and I cry
because I can never make you laugh again. "




THE PASSING OF ARTHUR.


One night King Arthur saw Sir Gawain in a dream, and Gawain, who had
been killed, shrilly called out to him through the wind:

"Hail King! to-morrow you are going to pass away, and there's a land of
rest for you. Farewell! "

But when Arthur told his dream to Sir Bedivere, good old Sir Bedivere
replied, "Don't mind what dreams tell you, but get your knights together
and go out to the West to meet Sir Modred, who has stirred up against
you so many of the knights you love. They all know in their hearts that
you are king. Go and conquer them as of old. "

So the king took his army by night and pushed upon Modred league after
league, until they reached the Western part of Lyonesse where the long
mountains ended in the moaning sea. There Modred's men could flee no
farther, so on the waste lands by the barren sea they began that last
dim weird battle of the West.

A white chill mist slept over all the land and water so that even Arthur
became confused since he could not see which were his friends and which
were his foes. Friends killed friends, some saw the faces of old ghosts
looking in upon the battle. Spears were splintered, shields were broken,
swords clashed, helmets were shattered, men shrieked and looked up to
heaven for help but saw only the white, white mists. There were cries
for light and moans.

At last toward the close of the day a hush fell over the whole shore; a
bitter wind from the North blew the mist aside and the pale king looked
across the battlefield.
But no one was there only the waves breaking in
among the dead faces.

But bold Bedivere said: "My King! the man who hates you stands there,
Modred, the traitor of your house! "

"Don't call this traitor a person of my house," the king replied. "The
men of my house are not those who have lived under one roof with me, but
those who always call me their king. "

With that, Arthur dashed after Modred. Modred struck at the king's
helmet, which had grown thin with all his heathen wars. Arthur with his
sword Excalibur struck Modred dead, then fell down himself almost killed
with the wound through his helmet.

Sir Bedivere lifted him up and carried him to a chapel near by.

"Take my sword, Excalibur," said the King, "and fling it out into the
middle of the sea, watch what happens to it and then come back at once
and tell me. "

"It doesn't seem right to leave you all alone here," said Sir Bedivere,
"when you are wounded and ill, but since you wish me to go, I will, and
will do all that you have told me. "

He slipped away by zigzag paths, points and jutting rock to the shining
level of the sea. There he drew out the sword Excalibur. The winter moon
sparkled against its hilt and made it twinkle with its diamond sparks,
with myriads of topaz lights and fine jewelry work. Bedivere gazed so
long at it that both his eyes were dazzled as he stood, and he wondered
whether he ought to throw away so beautiful a thing. At last he decided
to hide it away among the water-flags that grew along shore.