And drawing nigher did behold

That these were bodies dead and cold,
Attired in full royal guise,

And wrought by art in such a wise
That living they all seemed to be,
Whose very eyes he well could see,
That now beheld not foul or fair,
Shining as though alive they were.
And midmost of that company
An ancient king that man could see,
A mighty man, whose beard of gray
A foot over his gold gown lay;
And next beside him sat his queen,
Who in a flowery gown of green
And golden mantle well was clad,
And on her neck a collar had
Too heavy for her dainty breast;
Her loins by such a belt were pressed,

That whoso in his treasury

Held that alone, a king might be.
On either side of these a lord
Stood heedfully before the board,

And in their hands held bread and wine
For service; behind these did shine

The armor of the guards, and then
The well-attired serving-men;
The minstrels clad in raiment meet;
And over against the royal seat
Was hung a lamp, although no flame
Was burning there, but there was set
Within its open golden fret

A huge carbuncle, red and bright,
Wherefrom there shone forth such a light
That great hall was as clear by it
As though by wax it had been lit,
As some great church at Easter-tide.
Now set a little way aside,
Six paces from the daïs stood
An image made of brass and wood,
In likeness of a full-armed knight,
Who pointed 'gainst the ruddy light
A huge shaft ready in a bow.

Pondering how he could come to know What all these marvellous matters meant, About the hall the Scholar went,

Trembling, though nothing moved as yet;
And for a while did he forget

The longings that had brought him there,
In wondering at these marvels fair;
And still for fear he doubted much
One jewel of their robes to touch.

But as about the hall he passed,
He grew more used to them at last,
And thought, "Swiftly the time goes by,
And now no doubt the day draws nigh,
Folk will be stirring; by my head,
A fool I am to fear the dead,
Who have seen living things enow,

Whose very names no man can know,
Whose shapes brave men might well affright
More than the lion in the night

Wandering for food": therewith he drew
Unto those royal corpses two,

That on dead brows still wore the crown,
And midst the golden cups set down
The rugged wallet from his back,

Patched of strong leather, brown and black.
Then, opening wide its mouth, took up
From off the board a golden cup

The king's dead hand was laid upon,
Whose unmoved eyes upon him shone,
And recked no more of that last shame
Than if he were the beggar lame
Who in old days was wont to wait
For a dog's meal beside the gate.
Of which shame naught our man did reck,
But laid his hand upon the neck
Of the slim queen, and thence undid
The jewelled collar, that straight slid
Down her smooth bosom to the board.
And when these matters he had stored
Safe in his sack, with both their crowns,
The jewelled parts of their rich gowns,
Their shoes and belts, brooches and rings,
And cleared the board of all rich things,
He staggered with them down the hall.
But as he went his eyes did fall
Upon a wonderful green stone,

Upon the hall-floor laid alone;

He said, "Though thou art not so great
To add by much unto the weight

Of this my sack, indeed, yet thou,

Certes, would make me rich enow,
That verily with thee I might
Wage one half of the world to fight
The other half of it, and I

The lord of all the world might die;
I will not leave thee": therewithal
He knelt down midmost of the hall,
Thinking it would come easily
Into his hand: but when that he
Gat hold of it, full fast it stack,
So fuming, down he laid his sack,
And with both hands pulled lustily,
But as he strained, he cast his eye
Unto the dais, and saw there
The image who the great bow bare
Moving the bow-string to his ear;
So, shrieking out aloud for fear,
Of that rich stone he loosed his hold,
And, catching up his bag of gold,
Gat to his feet but ere he stood,
The evil thing of brass and wood
Up to his ear the notches drew,
And clanging forth the arrow flew,
And midmost of the carbuncle
Clanging again, the forked barbs fell,
And all was dark as pitch straightway.

So there until the judgment day Shall come and find his bones laid low, And raise them up for weal or woe, This man must bide; cast down he lay,

While all his past life day by day

In one short moment he could see
Drawn out before him, while that he
In terror by that fatal stone

Was laid, and scarcely dared to moan.
But in a while his hope returned,
And then, though nothing he discerned,
He gat him up upon his feet,
And all about the walls he beat
To find some token of the door,
But never could he find it more,
For by some dreadful sorcery
All was sealed close as it might be,
And midst the marvels of that hall
This Scholar found the end of all.

But in the town on that same night,
An hour before the dawn of light,
Such storm upon the place there fell,
That not the oldest man could tell
Of such another and thereby

:

The image was burned utterly,

Being stricken from the clouds above;
And folk deemed that same bolt did move
The pavement where that wretched one
Unto his foredoomed fate had gone,
Because the plate was set again
Into its place, and the great rain
Washed the earth down, and sorcery

Had hid the place where it did lie.

So, soon the stones were set all straight,