by
the fairy queens, disappearing at last beneath the horizon. Guenever
would seen to have deserved a harder fate than simply to retire to a
nunnery of which she is made the abbess. Sir Launcelot dies a holy man
and a monk, saying masses for the souls of his old companions in arms.
With his death the old glory of the Round Table passes away forever.

And whan syr Ector herd suche noyse & lyghte in the quyre of joyous
Garde, he alyghted and put his hors from hym, and came in to the
quyre, & there he sawe men synge the seruyse full lamentably. And
alle they knewe syre Ector, but he knewe not them. Thenne went syr
Bors to syr Ector, & tolde him how there laye hys broder syr
Launcelot dede, and then syr Ector threwe his shelde, hys swerde &
helme from hym. And whan he behelde syr Launcelot's vysage, he
felle donne in a sowne. And when he awakyd it were harde for any
tonge to telle the doleful complayntes that he made for his broder.
A, syr Launcelot, he sayd, thou were head of all Crysten knyztes,
and now I dare saye, sayd syr Ector, thou syr Launcelot, ther thou
lyest, that thou were neuer matched of none erthely knyghtes
handes. And thou were the curtoyste knyghte that ever bare shelde.
And thou were the truest frend to thy louer that euer bestradde
hors, & thou were the truest louer of a synfull man that euer loued
woman. And thou were the kyndest man that euer stroke wyth swerde.
And thou were the goodelyest persone that euer came among prees of
knyghtes. And thou were the mekest man & the gentylest that euer
ete in halle amonge ladyes. And thou were the sternest knyghte to
thy mortall foo that euer put spere in the reyst. Thenne there was
wepyng & dolour oute of mesure.[25]

The literary form of the "Morte d'Arthur" admits of description rather
than of criticism. A noble and forcible simplicity of expression
pervades the old Norman French in which the romances of chivalry were
first written, which is well reflected in the English of Sir Thomas
Malory. Of plot there is none. The same vagueness pervades the course
of the narrative, which is characteristic of the historical groundwork,
the geography, and the time of action. Most of the incidents depend on
chance. Life in the Middle Ages was a very serious affair, and in the
romances there was almost no attempt at wit or humor. In the "Morte
d'Arthur," perhaps the only passage which might