Analysis of The Coming Of Arthur



Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.

For many a petty king ere Arthur came
Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war
Each upon other, wasted all the land;
And still from time to time the heathen host
Swarmed overseas, and harried what was left.
And so there grew great tracts of wilderness,
Wherein the beast was ever more and more,
But man was less and less, till Arthur came.
For first Aurelius lived and fought and died,
And after him King Uther fought and died,
But either failed to make the kingdom one.
And after these King Arthur for a space,
And through the puissance of his Table Round,
Drew all their petty princedoms under him.
Their king and head, and made a realm, and reigned.

And thus the land of Cameliard was waste,
Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein,
And none or few to scare or chase the beast;
So that wild dog, and wolf and boar and bear
Came night and day, and rooted in the fields,
And wallowed in the gardens of the King.
And ever and anon the wolf would steal
The children and devour, but now and then,
Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat
To human sucklings; and the children, housed
In her foul den, there at their meat would growl,
And mock their foster mother on four feet,
Till, straightened, they grew up to wolf-like men,
Worse than the wolves.  And King Leodogran
Groaned for the Roman legions here again,
And Csar's eagle:  then his brother king,
Urien, assailed him:  last a heathen horde,
Reddening the sun with smoke and earth with blood,
And on the spike that split the mother's heart
Spitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed,
He knew not whither he should turn for aid.

But--for he heard of Arthur newly crowned,
Though not without an uproar made by those
Who cried, `He is not Uther's son'--the King
Sent to him, saying, `Arise, and help us thou!
For here between the man and beast we die.'

And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms,
But heard the call, and came:  and Guinevere
Stood by the castle walls to watch him pass;
But since he neither wore on helm or shield
The golden symbol of his kinglihood,
But rode a simple knight among his knights,
And many of these in richer arms than he,
She saw him not, or marked not, if she saw,
One among many, though his face was bare.
But Arthur, looking downward as he past,
Felt the light of her eyes into his life
Smite on the sudden, yet rode on, and pitched
His tents beside the forest.  Then he drave
The heathen; after, slew the beast, and felled
The forest, letting in the sun, and made
Broad pathways for the hunter and the knight
And so returned.

For while he lingered there,
A doubt that ever smouldered in the hearts
Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm
Flashed forth and into war:  for most of these,
Colleaguing with a score of petty kings,
Made head against him, crying, `Who is he
That he should rule us? who hath proven him
King Uther's son? for lo! we look at him,
And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice,
Are like to those of Uther whom we knew.
This is the son of Gorlos, not the King;
This is the son of Anton, not the King.'

And Arthur, passing thence to battle, felt
Travail, and throes and agonies of the life,
Desiring to be joined with Guinevere;
And thinking as he rode, `Her father said
That there between the man and beast they die.
Shall I not lift her from this land of beasts
Up to my throne, and side by side with me?
What happiness to reign a lonely king,
Vext--O ye stars that shudder over me,
O earth that soundest hollow under me,
Vext with waste dreams? for saving I be joined
To her that is the fairest under heaven,
I seem as nothing in the mighty world,
And cannot will my will, nor work my work
Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm
Victor and lord.  But were I joined with her,
Then might we live together as one life,
And reigning with one will in everything
Have power on this dark land to lighten it,
And power on this dead world to make it live.'

Thereafter--as he speaks who tells the tale--
When Arthur reached a field-of-battle bright
With pitched pavilions of his foe, the world
Was all so clear about him, that he saw
The smallest rock far on the faintest hill,
And even in high day the morning star.
So when the King had set his banne


Scheme AAXA BCAAAXCBAADXAEA AXAFXGXHAAXAHDHGAAAAA AXGXA XCXAAXIJFAKAKAAAA FXLXXIEEXXGG AKCAAXIGIIADAXLXKGAX XAAJXXD
Poetic Form
Metre 10111 1111001101 01101011111 10001101 11001011101 1011010101 1011010101 0111110101 1101010111 0111111100 0101110101 1111011101 11110101 0101110101 1101110101 0101110101 010111101 111101101 1101010101 01011111 11110100101 0111111101 1111010101 1101010001 0100010101 010010111 01000101101 0111111011 110100101 0011111111 0111010111 1101111111 1101011 1101010101 011011101 101110101 101110111 0101110101 1001111101 1111011111 1111110101 110111111 111111101 1111010111 1101010111 0101111111 11010101 1101011111 1111011111 01010111 1101010111 01011010111 1111111111 1011011111 1101010111 1011010111 1101011101 1101010111 0101010101 0101000101 111010001 0101 111101 011101001 1111010111 1100111111 11011101 1101110111 1111111101 111111111 0111110111 1111110111 110111101 110111101 0101011101 01010100101 010011111 0101111101 1101010111 1111011111 1111011111 1100110101 1111110101 1111010101 1111110111 10110101010 1111000101 0101111111 101110111 1001101110 1111010111 010111010 11011111101 01011111111 0101111101 1101011101 1101011101 1111011111 0101110101 0100110101 11011111
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,358
Words 825
Sentences 26
Stanzas 8
Stanza Lengths 4, 15, 21, 5, 17, 12, 20, 7
Lines Amount 101
Letters per line (avg) 33
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 420
Words per stanza (avg) 104
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 23, 2023

4:08 min read
361

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tennyson, FRS was Poet Laureate of Great Britain and Ireland during much of Queen Victoria's reign and remains one of the most popular British poets.  more…

All Alfred Lord Tennyson poems | Alfred Lord Tennyson Books

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