Tintagel
by Aubrey De VereWhen first remote Tintagel met mine eyes
Between its bastions and the setting sun
Cloud-pageantries of conflicts lost and won
Rushed madly, so it seemed, through reddening skies:
The glooming wave was streaked with sanguine dyes;
Strange, fiery crowns crested the sea-cliffs dun,
The caves beneath them, black as Acheron
Blended their widow-wails with onset cries
From Bostcastle and Bude. There moved in power
Arthur, the King! No knightly mail he wore,
No charger strode. Thundered his battle-axe
Upon the flying Northmen's iron backs.
Sunlike that long-haired Briton shone that hour;
Fast fled the heathen o'er that ship-thronged shore!