CHORUS OF LAKE SPIRITS

  Warrior knight, into thy hand, Monarch of a mighty land That, in unborn years, shall be Monarch of the mightier sea; Great Pendragon's son, to thee We shall yield Excalibur. The sword again slowly sinks into the Lake.
Who is Pendragon's son?
  Thou art the man; Pendragon's son, albeit thou know'st it not; For at thy birth I took thee from the Court; Deep in the woods--a flower amid the flowers,-- I watched beside thee, heard thine infant tongue First lisp responsive to the woodland birds, And by thy cradle, swung beneath the stars, Taught thee the wisdom that should fit a throne. Now art thou called! Stand forth and take thy sword Whose might alone can stay these wasting wars, Whose might alone shall bring the realm of peace.