Avillion or the Happy Isles

The King, seemed to strive with troubled dreams. His huge limbs tossed restlessly, and his sleeping fingers ever sought blindly the renowned Excalibur, which lay beside him–at once his sceptre and his sword. He called oftentimes upon his good knights of the Round Table–Tristram, and Launcelot; also, Gawaine, his near kinsman, so well beloved, and by Sir Launcelot’s fatal hand slain. Then, suddenly awaking, he lifted up his voice and cried.