A time of despair
lay cold breath upon the land.
While Lord King Arthur
retired within his chamber,
sat alone, in cuckold’s grief.
could he gain, from grieving wife,
or courtly knights,
till from the high battlements
joyful cries when far below
knelt his once favourite knight
who, though hermit now
pledged his service and his sword
to the man whom once he wronged.
Thus was pestilence once more,
purged from proud, fair Albion.