Arthur's Round Table

Thomas Warton


WHERE Venta’s Norman castle still uprears

Its raftered hall, that o’er the grassy foss

And scattered flinty fragments clad in moss

On yonder steep in naked strength appears,

High hung remains, the pride of warlike years,

Old Arthur’s board;—on the capacious round

Some British pen has sketched the names renowned,

In marks obscure, of his immortal peers.

Though joined by magic skill with many a rhyme

The Druid frame, unhonored, falls a prey

To the slow vengeance of the wizard time,

And fade the British characters away;

Yet Spenser’s page, that chants in verse sublime

Those chiefs, shall live, unconscious of decay.