The Absolution of Bedivere

Sit now, Thy head bowed,
And, awaiting blessed benediction, pray
Sweet absolve of Arthur’s stay,
His bloodied head crowned.

Sit, good Bedivere, as Peter thrice
Denied his Lord, ye, thy king, betrayed.
Judas’ lips; Thy hands on blade,
And beg forgiveness Christ’s.

Now Arthur’s hands upon thee laid,
In humble blessing soft bestowed,
And by faery-angels fairly rowed
To Av’lon’s bed, Thy King away.

Rise, noble Bedivere,
Of garter’s guild in green, the last.
The final place of honor hast
Thou to hold in cherished reverie.

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