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For once, when Arthur walking all alone, Vext at a rumour issued from herself Of some corruption crept among his knights, Had met her, Vivien, being greeted fair, Would fain have wrought upon his cloudy mood With reverent eyes mock-loyal, shaken voice, And flutter'd adoration, and at last With dark sweet hints of some who prized him more Than who should prize him most; at which the King Had gazed upon her blankly and gone by: But one had watch'd, and had not held his peace: It made the laughter of an afternoon That Vivien should attempt the blameless King.
"Embryos and idiots, eremites and friars, A violent cross wind from either coast Blew them transverse. Then might ye see Cowls, hoods, and habits, with their wearers, tost, And flutter'd into rags; their reliques, beads, Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls, The sport of winds." The mire was fully stirred up in which the hierarchy had enjoyed its sleep and sunshine for a thousand years.
Then turned she aside, and sang musingly: I came to his arms like the flower of the spring, And he was my bird of the radiant wing: He flutter'd above me a moment, and won The bliss of my breast as a beam of the sun, Untouch'd and untasted till then The voice in her throat was like a drowning creature, and she rose up, and chanted wildly: I weep again?
Then turned she aside, and sang musingly: I came to his arms like the flower of the spring, And he was my bird of the radiant wing: He flutter'd above me a moment, and won The bliss of my breast as a beam of the sun, Untouch'd and untasted till then The voice in her throat was like a drowning creature, and she rose up, and chanted wildly: I weep again?
If you have writ your annals true,'tis there, That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Volsces in Corioli: Alone, I did it. Auf. Read it, noble lords; But tell the traitor, in the highest degree He hath abused your powers. Cor. Traitor! How now? Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius. Cor. Marcius! Auf.
'If you have writ your annals true, 't is there, That like an EAGLE in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Volsces in Corioli: Alone, I did it. 'Why 'Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears? Cons.
Her life was turning, turning, In mazes of heat and sound, But for peace her soul was yearning, And now peace laps her round. Her cabin'd, ample spirit, It flutter'd and fail'd for breath. To-night it doth inherit The vasty hall of death. After Laura's death I spent most of my time in the East End of London.
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