The Portland daily press., 1874-01-16
POETRY.
From the Masonic Token.]
The Quest Of Sir Ector.
BY J. P. b.

BYJ.P.B.
Ont fro,, the wood In the light Of morn,
Sir Ector flashed in spotless mail; .,or,
His white steed spurned the gltbes ~ he so dale
And curyeted high as he crosse e. 'A'
Towards the halls of Launceio'
Joyousgarde with its towers h hiSaa,,,, drs.u
imprisoued IN mists ike n;sslu. uieai
ne gii,n a prsioed his steed by singing stream,
Where oft had fingered Launcelot.
Tor Iauucelot had been his quest
Through Kingdoms wide, for seven long years;
North and south, and east and west,
He bad marked his course with shattered spears
For love Of noble Launcelot.
Adown the sparkling vale he rode
he violets wasted their sweets IN VAIN
In vain tie opening ross g0wed,
For Fancy wrought within his braln
A vision of lost Launceiot.
He crossed the drawbridge green with mold;
beneath the great portcullis swept;
Past giant oaks century oid,
which like grim guards the passage kept
To the proud towers OF Launcelot'
The weely avenue he traced
Across tangled solitude;,
Tn the ROAD terrace spurIeu Ii music,
And by the gaping portal STOOD,
Whence. Years agone, rode Launcelot.
Then
His amber horn and blew plast,
which every winding passage Traced,
And died in chambers dim ana vast
Erewhile the pride OF Launceiot.
pe sighed. .sThis bauble, once, I wot,
A p,eeant would have conjured round;
Kuiehie danes and pages trooping Lot,
With jessed hawk and muzzled hound
10 greet q friend OF Launcelot."
just then Pickering light he spied
Down in hollow of the wood;
Where apes long, in antique pride,
The chapel shriued In moss had stood,
Where oft had knelt brave Launcelot.
on from his steed in haste he sprung,
And rough the thicket pushed his way;
The door sjar wide open hung,
And IN tue nave in shadows gray
Went, dreaming still Of Launcelot.
TIL meath the carven cherubim
He paused, with half sense Of fear;
For in the chauces' splendor dim
He saw coMled MONKS around pier,
Yet still he thought of Launcelot
And unused, with wonder In his face,
Better the casque than cowle ween
This brawDy brotherhood would grace;
Sure grander forms were never seen
Save In the train OF Launcslot.
Fen while 9 unused, forth from the throug
Stal, ed tall monk with hurried stride,
Seized his mailed hand with grasp 50 strong
That never a ca sock thence could hide
Sir Bors, tried friend Of Launcelot.
"sir Ector," cried they all, and cast
The cowl from off each grzzled head;
When, loi as souls aneled and massed
The friends with whom his youth had sped
The brave old Knights of Launcelot.
They led him softly to the bier,
Said "Launcelot" -one word-no more
He flung aside his knightly gear,
And as one dead upon the floor
Sank down beside dead Launcelot.
Then finding voice at last he cried,
sAui lest Lnou there Sir Launceot?
Thou of all Christian Knights the pride?
ALI! never vert thou matched, wot,
BY earthly knight, Sir Launcelct.
"And thou vert the most courteous knight
That e'er in lists might bear a shield;
The truest friend to mortal wight
That e'er reIned stecd on battle field,
Mine own beloved Launcelot.
"And thou vert Of all SINFUL men.
The truest lover hat ever wOoed, -
The kindliest man in knightly ken,
That ever struck with weapon good
In list or field, dear Launcelot.
"Thou vert the goodest person, too,
That ever knightly press did bear;
No man SO gentle, meek and true
Fer ate in hall with ladies fair,
As thou, alas sweet Launcelot.
"Yet when by mortal foeman pressed
Thou vert, withal, the sternest Knight
That ever put O spear In rest,
Or strove from wrong to wiring the Right
The World has lost its Lduncetot."
Such was his plant; and, then, the bier
They raised and bore in grief away,
Sprinkling the pail with many tear,
And as they went they oft did say,
THE WORLD HAS LOST ITS LAUNCELOT.