Guinevere Unconquered

Lost Camelot Series

Book Two

By M.L. Bullock

Text copyright © 2018 Monica L. Bullock

All rights reserved

Then, in the boyhood of the year,

Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere

Rode thro’ the coverts of the deer,

With blissful treble ringing clear.

She seem’d a part of joyous Spring;

A gown of grass-green silk she wore,

Buckled with golden clasps before;

A light-green tuft of plumes she bore

Closed in a golden ring.

Now on some twisted ivy-net,

Now by some tinkling rivulet,

In mosses mixt with violet

Her cream-white mule his pastern set;

And fleeter now she skimm’d the plains

Than she whose elfin prancer springs

By night to eery warblings,

When all the glimmering moorland rings

With jingling bridle-reins.

As she fled fast thro’ sun and shade,

The happy winds upon her play’d,

Blowing the ringlet from the braid.

She look’d so lovely, as she sway’d

The rein with dainty finger-tips,

A man had given all other bliss,

And all his worldly worth for this,

To waste his whole heart in one kiss

Upon her perfect lips.

Excerpt from Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere

Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1842

For all those who believe in Camelot.