Vext

She was vext and angry, God wot: "What hast thou here in the grove to do? Little business, I trow, thou hast got."

What happiness to reign a lonely king, Vext — O ye stars that shudder over me, O earth that soundest hollow under me, Vext with waste dreams?

And that same night, the night of the new year, By reason of the bitterness and grief That vext his mother, all before his time Was Arthur born [...]

[...] and thence Taking my war-horse from the holy man, Glad that no phantom vext me more, return'd To whence I came, the gate of Arthur's wars.