



Produced by Ted Garvin and the Distributed Proofreading Team










THE LAST TOURNAMENT

BY

ALFRED TENNYSON, D.C.L.,

POET-LAUREATE

AUTHOR'S EDITION

FROM ADVANCE SHEETS

This poem forms one of the "Idyls of the King." Its place
is between "Pelleas" and "Guinevere."

BY ALFRED TENNYSON,

POET LAUREATE

   Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his moods
 Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
 At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
 Danced like a wither'd leaf before the Hall.
 And toward him from the Hall, with harp in hand,
 And from the crown thereof a carcanet
 Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
 Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
 Came Tristram, saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?"

   For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
 Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
 Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead,
 From roots like some black coil of carven snakes
 Clutch'd at the crag, and started thro' mid-air
 Bearing an eagle's nest: and thro' the tree
 Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro' the wind
 Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
 Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
 This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
 And all unscarr'd from beak or talon, brought
 A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
 Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
 But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
 Received, and after loved it tenderly,
 And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
 A moment, and her cares; till that young life
 Being smitten in mid-heaven with mortal cold
 Past