Kings: G

Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead

Bellicent: Yea, my well-beloved,
An ’twere but of the goose and golden eggs.

And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes,
‘Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.

Then Bellicent bemoaned herself and said,
Lo, where thy father Lot beside the hearth
Lies like a log, and all but smouldered out!

Stay therefore thou; red berries charm the bird,
And thee, mine innocent.....follow the deer
By these tall firs and our fast-falling burns;
So make thy manhood mightier day by day;

I will walk through fire, Mother, to gain it
Who should be King save him who makes us free?

And there was no gate like it under heaven.
The Lady of the Lake stood: all her dress
Wept from her sides as water flowing away;
But like the cross her great and goodly arms
Stretched under the cornice and upheld:
And drops of water fell from either hand;
And down from one a sword was hung, from one
A censer (container in which incense is burned), either worn with wind and storm;
And o’er her breast floated the sacred fish;

Idylls of the King, Alfred Lord Tennyson