Sir Lancelot And Queen Guinevere

Wallpaper Description:

For a new friend...VC...Hope you enjoy it!
And if you bear with me, though Sir Lancelot may have been a fictitious character (and human at that), he was one of the most noble of warriors, the most gallant and brave..and from the human realm's perspective, portrayed almost angelic like qualities of nobility, honor, loyalty, devotion, and protection that far surpassed that of ordinary man...the things made of legends, which is why this story/tale holds such meaning in a world without a moral compass. Who doesn't need a Sir Lancelot in their corner? Doesn't it make you wonder..even just a bit? Look around you, they're still here, our soldiers/warriors of today...the silent ones you walk by, and never know unless you've walked their lonely, dangerous path. I salute you, our soldiers/protectors...our fallen comrades who remain nameless, you are not forgotten, nor shall you remain unkown..your legend, your struggle lives on the hearts and souls of those whom you defend, at the cost of your life! I know something of those days & am proud of who & what you are! I salute you!...Welcome home our noble & silent warriors, our Sir Lancelots and Knights of the Round Table!...

ღღღ ♥♥♥ Sir Lancelot & Queen Guinevere ♥♥♥ ღღღ

Lord Alfred Tennyson immortalized the doomed lovers in a poem:

Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere
Like souls that balance joy and pain,

With tears and smiles from heaven again

The maiden Spring upon the plain

Came in a sunlit fall of rain.

In crystal vapor everywhere

Blue isles of heaven laugh'd between,

And far, in forest-deeps unseen,

The topmost elm-tree gather'd green

From draughts of balmy air.
Sometimes the linnet piped his song;

Sometimes the throstle whistled strong;

Sometimes the sparhawk, wheel'd along,

Hush'd all the groves from fear of wrong;

By grassy capes with fuller sound

In curves the yellowing river ran,

And drooping chestnut-buds began

To spread into the perfect fan,

Above the teeming ground.

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.

♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ღღღღღღ ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥


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