Driven on and on he rode,through mountain pass and valley low .
Just single thought of cold revenge as he galloped past the old stone henge.
He would spare no life , no mercy would be given to avenge her death his only mission , slaughtered by a heinous foe , for her love to death he’d go.
So on he rode with sharpened steel in morning light his armour gleamed , as the hour reached midday to the battlefield he found his way , he joined his men the air stank of fear,the charge command screamed in his ear.
Horses into gallop broke , swords were drawn in one swift stroke, arrows now came down like rain,many men fell in death or pain.
But forward he rode spurred on by rage,with hacking and slashing many men he slayed,but in all that death he never spied the hand by which his lady died.
The blood flowed like crimson streams , dying red the legs of his pure white steed.
The fight wore on into the night,he fought and fought until the light,till man and beast had lost they’re might.
As the battle began to slow , the field grew quiet of the near death moans , four times five hundred men and boys drifted away from this mortal coil.
Then when the morning mist had cleared a grisly sight to him appeared, there among the bodies and gore, his broken body beneath slain horse.
Down upon his knees he fell inside his mind a tolling bell , in that bell a message comes , be at peace good knight your life is done to rest now must your spirit come.
Just follow the chiming of this bell, ride swift ride hard and cross the fells, through the forests and through the fields , up to the peaks where eagles wheel .
Then down ,down ride onto the rocky shore,of the crystal lake with waters pure , and see now where your journey ends and let your soul feel free and cleansed, its time to leave the mortal plane you’ve lived with love and suffered pain you lived and died upon the sword , upon this ferry you now must board.
Step now upon this isle of silver glass ,trees full of fruit and lush soft grass and there you’ll find where your lady love was gone , she awaits you good sir there on the peaceful shores of Avalon .
Image: The last sleep of Arthur by Edward Burne -Jones .