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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2136-0.txt b/2136-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..03c500e --- /dev/null +++ b/2136-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3008 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Tale of Balen, by Algernon Charles +Swinburne + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Tale of Balen + + +Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne + + + +Release Date: December 24, 2008 [eBook #2136] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF BALEN*** + + +Transcribed from the 1896 Chatto & Windus edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + PRINTED BY + SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE + LONDON + + + + + + THE TALE OF BALEN + + + BY + ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE + + * * * * * + + LONDON + CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY + 1896 + + Copyright in the United States, 1896, by CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS. + + + + +DEDICATION + + +TO MY MOTHER + + +Love that holds life and death in fee, +Deep as the clear unsounded sea +And sweet as life or death can be, +Lays here my hope, my heart, and me +Before you, silent, in a song. +Since the old wild tale, made new, found grace, +When half sung through, before your face, +It needs must live a springtide space, +While April suns grow strong. + +_March_ 24, 1896. + + + + +THE TALE OF BALEN + + +I + + +In hawthorn-time the heart grows light, +The world is sweet in sound and sight, +Glad thoughts and birds take flower and flight, +The heather kindles toward the light, + The whin is frankincense and flame. +And be it for strife or be it for love +The falcon quickens as the dove +When earth is touched from heaven above + With joy that knows no name. + +And glad in spirit and sad in soul +With dream and doubt of days that roll +As waves that race and find no goal +Rode on by bush and brake and bole + A northern child of earth and sea. +The pride of life before him lay +Radiant: the heavens of night and day +Shone less than shone before his way + His ways and days to be. + +And all his life of blood and breath +Sang out within him: time and death +Were even as words a dreamer saith +When sleep within him slackeneth, + And light and life and spring were one. +The steed between his knees that sprang, +The moors and woods that shone and sang, +The hours where through the spring’s breath rang, + Seemed ageless as the sun. + +But alway through the bounteous bloom +That earth gives thanks if heaven illume +His soul forefelt a shadow of doom, +His heart foreknew a gloomier gloom + Than closes all men’s equal ways, +Albeit the spirit of life’s light spring +With pride of heart upheld him, king +And lord of hours like snakes that sting + And nights that darken days. + +And as the strong spring round him grew +Stronger, and all blithe winds that blew +Blither, and flowers that flowered anew +More glad of sun and air and dew, + The shadow lightened on his soul +And brightened into death and died +Like winter, as the bloom waxed wide +From woodside on to riverside + And southward goal to goal. + +Along the wandering ways of Tyne, +By beech and birch and thorn that shine +And laugh when life’s requickening wine +Makes night and noon and dawn divine + And stirs in all the veins of spring, +And past the brightening banks of Tees, +He rode as one that breathes and sees +A sun more blithe, a merrier breeze, + A life that hails him king. + +And down the softening south that knows +No more how glad the heather glows, +Nor how, when winter’s clarion blows +Across the bright Northumbrian snows, + Sea-mists from east and westward meet, +Past Avon senseless yet of song +And Thames that bore but swans in throng +He rode elate in heart and strong + In trust of days as sweet. + +So came he through to Camelot, +Glad, though for shame his heart waxed hot, +For hope within it withered not +To see the shaft it dreamed of shot + Fair toward the glimmering goal of fame, +And all King Arthur’s knightliest there +Approved him knightly, swift to dare +And keen to bid their records bear + Sir Balen’s northern name. + +Sir Balen of Northumberland +Gat grace before the king to stand +High as his heart was, and his hand +Wrought honour toward the strange north strand + That sent him south so goodly a knight. +And envy, sick with sense of sin, +Began as poisonous herbs begin +To work in base men’s blood, akin + To men’s of nobler might. + +And even so fell it that his doom, +For all his bright life’s kindling bloom +And light that took no thought for gloom, +Fell as a breath from the opening tomb + Full on him ere he wist or thought. +For once a churl of royal seed, +King Arthur’s kinsman, faint in deed +And loud in word that knew not heed, + Spake shame where shame was nought. + +“What doth one here in Camelot +Whose birth was northward? Wot we not +As all his brethren borderers wot +How blind of heart, how keen and hot, + The wild north lives and hates the south? +Men of the narrowing march that knows +Nought save the strength of storms and snows, +What would these carles where knighthood blows + A trump of kinglike mouth?” + +Swift from his place leapt Balen, smote +The liar across his face, and wrote +His wrath in blood upon the bloat +Brute cheek that challenged shame for note + How vile a king-born knave might be. +Forth sprang their swords, and Balen slew +The knave ere well one witness knew +Of all that round them stood or drew + What sight was there to see. + +Then spake the great king’s wrathful will +A doom for six dark months to fill +Wherein close prison held him, still +And steadfast-souled for good or ill. + But when those weary days lay dead +His lordliest knights and barons spake +Before the king for Balen’s sake +Good speech and wise, of force to break + The bonds that bowed his head. + + + +II + + +In linden-time the heart is high +For pride of summer passing by +With lordly laughter in her eye; +A heavy splendour in the sky + Uplifts and bows it down again. +The spring had waned from wood and wold +Since Balen left his prison hold +And lowlier-hearted than of old + Beheld it wax and wane. + +Though humble heart and poor array +Kept not from spirit and sense away +Their noble nature, nor could slay +The pride they bade but pause and stay + Till time should bring its trust to flower, +Yet even for noble shame’s sake, born +Of hope that smiled on hate and scorn, +He held him still as earth ere morn + Ring forth her rapturous hour. + +But even as earth when dawn takes flight +And beats her wings of dewy light +Full in the faltering face of night, +His soul awoke to claim by right + The life and death of deed and doom, +When once before the king there came +A maiden clad with grief and shame +And anguish burning her like flame + That feeds on flowers in bloom. + +Beneath a royal mantle, fair +With goodly work of lustrous vair, +Girt fast against her side she bare +A sword whose weight bade all men there + Quail to behold her face again. +Save of a passing perfect knight +Not great alone in force and fight +It might not be for any might + Drawn forth, and end her pain. + +So said she: then King Arthur spake: +“Albeit indeed I dare not take +Such praise on me, for knighthood’s sake +And love of ladies will I make + Assay if better none may be.” +By girdle and by sheath he caught +The sheathed and girded sword, and wrought +With strength whose force availed him nought + To save and set her free. + +Again she spake: “No need to set +The might that man has matched not yet +Against it: he whose hand shall get +Grace to release the bonds that fret + My bosom and my girdlestead +With little strain of strength or strife +Shall bring me as from death to life +And win to sister or to wife + Fame that outlives men dead.” + +Then bade the king his knights assay +This mystery that before him lay +And mocked his might of manhood. “Nay,” +Quoth she, “the man that takes away + This burden laid on me must be +A knight of record clean and fair +As sunlight and the flowerful air, +By sire and mother born to bear + A name to shame not me.” + +Then forth strode Launcelot, and laid +The mighty-moulded hand that made +Strong knights reel back like birds affrayed +By storm that smote them as they strayed + Against the hilt that yielded not. +Then Tristram, bright and sad and kind +As one that bore in noble mind +Love that made light as darkness blind, + Fared even as Launcelot. + +Then Lamoracke, with hardier cheer, +As one that held all hope and fear +Wherethrough the spirit of man may steer +In life and death less dark or dear, + Laid hand thereon, and fared as they. +With half a smile his hand he drew +Back from the spell-bound thing, and threw +With half a glance his heart anew + Toward no such blameless may. + +Between Iseult and Guenevere +Sat one of name as high to hear, +But darklier doomed than they whose cheer +Foreshowed not yet the deadlier year + That bids the queenliest head bow down, +The queen Morgause of Orkney: they +With scarce a flash of the eye could say +The very word of dawn, when day + Gives earth and heaven their crown. + +But bright and dark as night or noon +And lowering as a storm-flushed moon +When clouds and thwarting winds distune +The music of the midnight, soon + To die from darkening star to star +And leave a silence in the skies +That yearns till dawn find voice and rise, +Shone strange as fate Morgause, with eyes + That dwelt on days afar. + +A glance that shot on Lamoracke +As from a storm-cloud bright and black. +Fire swift and blind as death’s own track +Turned fleet as flame on Arthur back + From him whose hand forsook the hilt: +And one in blood and one in sin +Their hearts caught fire of pain within +And knew no goal for them to win + But death that guerdons guilt. + +Then Gawain, sweet of soul and gay +As April ere he dreams of May, +Strove, and prevailed not: then Sir Kay, +The snake-souled envier, vile as they + That fawn and foam and lurk and lie, +Sire of the bastard band whose brood +Was alway found at servile feud +With honour, faint and false and lewd, + Scarce grasped and put it by. + +Then wept for woe the damsel bound +With iron and with anguish round, +That none to help her grief was found +Or loose the inextricably inwound + Grim curse that girt her life with grief +And made a burden of her breath, +Harsh as the bitterness of death. +Then spake the king as one that saith + Words bitterer even than brief. + +“Methought the wide round world could bring +Before the face of queen or king +No knights more fit for fame to sing +Than fill this full Round Table’s ring + With honour higher than pride of place: +But now my heart is wrung to know, +Damsel, that none whom fame can show +Finds grace to heal or help thy woe: + God gives them not the grace.” + +Then from the lowliest place thereby, +With heart-enkindled cheek and eye +Most like the star and kindling sky +That say the sundawn’s hour is high + When rapture trembles through the sea, +Strode Balen in his poor array +Forth, and took heart of grace to pray +The damsel suffer even him to assay + His power to set her free. + +Nay, how should he avail, she said, +Averse with scorn-averted head, +Where these availed not? none had sped +Of all these mightier men that led + The lists wherein he might not ride, +And how should less men speed? But he, +With lordlier pride of courtesy, +Put forth his hand and set her free + From pain and humbled pride. + +But on the sword he gazed elate +With hope set higher than fear or fate, +Or doubt of darkling days in wait; +And when her thankful praise waxed great + And craved of him the sword again, +He would not give it. “Nay, for mine +It is till force may make it thine.” +A smile that shone as death may shine + Spake toward him bale and bane. + +Strange lightning flickered from her eyes. +“Gentle and good in knightliest guise +And meet for quest of strange emprise +Thou hast here approved thee: yet not wise + To keep the sword from me, I wis. +For with it thou shalt surely slay +Of all that look upon the day +The man best loved of thee, and lay + Thine own life down for his.” + +“What chance God sends, that chance I take,” +He said. Then soft and still she spake; +“I would but for thine only sake +Have back the sword of thee, and break + The links of doom that bind thee round. +But seeing thou wilt not have it so, +My heart for thine is wrung with woe.” +“God’s will,” quoth he, “it is, we know, + Wherewith our lives are bound.” + +“Repent it must thou soon,” she said, +“Who wouldst not hear the rede I read +For thine and not for my sake, sped +In vain as waters heavenward shed + From springs that falter and depart +Earthward. God bids not thee believe +Truth, and the web thy life must weave +For even this sword to close and cleave + Hangs heavy round my heart.” + +So passed she mourning forth. But he, +With heart of springing hope set free +As birds that breast and brave the sea, +Bade horse and arms and armour be + Made straightway ready toward the fray. +Nor even might Arthur’s royal prayer +Withhold him, but with frank and fair +Thanksgiving and leave-taking there + He turned him thence away. + + + +III + + +As the east wind, when the morning’s breast +Gleams like a bird’s that leaves the nest, +A fledgeling halcyon’s bound on quest, +Drives wave on wave on wave to west + Till all the sea be life and light, +So time’s mute breath, that brings to bloom +All flowers that strew the dead spring’s tomb, +Drives day on day on day to doom + Till all man’s day be night. + +Brief as the breaking of a wave +That hurls on man his thunderous grave +Ere fear find breath to cry or crave +Life that no chance may spare or save, + The light of joy and glory shone +Even as in dreams where death seems dead +Round Balen’s hope-exalted head, +Shone, passed, and lightened as it fled + The shadow of doom thereon. + +For as he bound him thence to fare, +Before the stately presence there +A lady like a windflower fair, +Girt on with raiment strange and rare + That rippled whispering round her, came. +Her clear cold eyes, all glassy grey, +Seemed lit not with the light of day +But touched with gleams that waned away + Of quelled and fading flame. + +Before the king she bowed and spake: +“King, for thine old faith’s plighted sake +To me the lady of the lake, +I come in trust of thee to take + The guerdon of the gift I gave, +Thy sword Excalibur.” And he +Made answer: “Be it whate’er it be, +If mine to give, I give it thee, + Nor need is thine to crave.” + +As when a gleam of wicked light +Turns half a low-lying water bright +That moans beneath the shivering night +With sense of evil sound and sight + And whispering witchcraft’s bated breath, +Her wan face quickened as she said: +“This knight that won the sword—his head +I crave or hers that brought it. Dead, + Let these be one in death.” + +“Not with mine honour this may be; +Ask all save this thou wilt,” quoth he, +“And have thy full desire.” But she +Made answer: “Nought will I of thee, + Nought if not this.” Then Balen turned, +And saw the sorceress hard beside +By whose fell craft his mother died: +Three years he had sought her, and here espied + His heart against her yearned. + +“Ill be thou met,” he said, “whose ire +Would slake with blood thy soul’s desire: +By thee my mother died in fire; +Die thou by me a death less dire.” + Sharp flashed his sword forth, fleet as flame, +And shore away her sorcerous head. +“Alas for shame,” the high king said, +“That one found once my friend lies dead; + Alas for all our shame! + +“Thou shouldst have here forborne her; yea, +Were all the wrongs that bid men slay +Thine, heaped too high for wrath to weigh, +Not here before my face today + Was thine the right to wreak thy wrong.” +Still stood he then as one that found +His rose of hope by storm discrowned, +And all the joy that girt him round + Brief as a broken song. + +Yet ere he passed he turned and spake: +“King, only for thy nobler sake +Than aught of power man’s power may take +Or pride of place that pride may break + I bid the lordlier man in thee, +That lives within the king, give ear. +This justice done before thee here +On one that hell’s own heart holds dear, + Needs might not this but be. + +“Albeit, for all that pride would prove, +My heart be wrung to lose thy love, +It yet repents me not hereof: +So many an eagle and many a dove, + So many a knight, so many a may, +This water-snake of poisonous tongue +To death by words and wiles hath stung, +That her their slayer, from hell’s lake sprung, + I did not ill to slay.” + +“Yea,” said the king, “too high of heart +To stand before a king thou art; +Yet irks it me to bid thee part +And take thy penance for thy part, + That God may put upon thy pride.” +Then Balen took the severed head +And toward his hostry turned and sped +As one that knew not quick from dead + Nor good from evil tide. + +He bade his squire before him stand +And take that sanguine spoil in hand +And bear it far by shore and strand +Till all in glad Northumberland + That loved him, seeing it, all might know +His deadliest foe was dead, and hear +How free from prison as from fear +He dwelt in trust of the answering year + To bring him weal for woe. + +“And tell them, now I take my way +To meet in battle, if I may, +King Ryons of North Wales, and slay +That king of kernes whose fiery sway + Doth all the marches dire despite +That serve King Arthur: so shall he +Again be gracious lord to me, +And I that leave thee meet with thee + Once more in Arthur’s sight.” + +So spake he ere they parted, nor +Took shame or fear to counsellor, +As one whom none laid ambush for; +And wist not how Sir Launceor, + The wild king’s son of Ireland, hot +And high in wrath to know that one +Stood higher in fame before the sun, +Even Balen, since the sword was won, + Drew nigh from Camelot. + +For thence, in heat of hate and pride, +As one that man might bid not bide, +He craved the high king’s grace to ride +On quest of Balen far and wide + And wreak the wrong his wrath had wrought. +“Yea,” Arthur said, “for such despite +Was done me never in my sight +As this thine hand shall now requite + If trust avail us aught.” + +But ere he passed, in eager mood +To feed his hate with bitter food, +Before the king’s face Merlin stood +And heard his tale of ill and good, + Of Balen, and the sword achieved, +And whence it smote as heaven’s red ire +That direful dame of doom as dire; +And how the king’s wrath turned to fire + The grief wherewith he grieved. + +And darkening as he gave it ear, +The still face of the sacred seer +Waxed wan with wrath and not with fear, +And ever changed its cloudier cheer + Till all his face was very night. +“This damosel that brought the sword,” +He said, “before the king my lord, +And all these knights about his board, + Hath done them all despite. + +“The falsest damosel she is +That works men ill on earth, I wis, +And all her mind is toward but this, +To kill as with a lying kiss + Truth, and the life of noble trust. +A brother hath she,—see but now +The flame of shame that brands her brow!— +A true man, pure as faith’s own vow, + Whose honour knows not rust. + +“This good knight found within her bower +A felon and her paramour, +And slew him in his shameful hour, +As right gave might and righteous power + To hands that wreaked so foul a wrong. +Then, for the hate her heart put on, +She sought by ways where death had gone +The lady Lyle of Avalon, + Whose crafts are strange and strong. + +“The sorceress, one with her in thought, +Gave her that sword of magic, wrought +By charms whereof sweet heaven sees nought, +That hither girt on her she brought + To be by doom her brother’s bane. +And grief it is to think how he +That won it, being of heart so free +And perfect found in chivalry, + Shall by that sword lie slain. + +Great pity it is and strange despite +That one whose eyes are stars to light +Honour, and shine as heaven’s own height, +Should perish, being the goodliest knight + That even the all-glorious north has borne. +Nor shall my lord the king behold +A lordlier friend of mightier mould +Than Balen, though his tale be told + Ere noon fulfil his morn.” + + + +IV + + +As morning hears before it run +The music of the mounting sun, +And laughs to watch his trophies won +From darkness, and her hosts undone, + And all the night become a breath, +Nor dreams that fear should hear and flee +The summer menace of the sea, +So hears our hope what life may be, + And knows it not for death. + +Each day that slays its hours and dies +Weeps, laughs, and lightens on our eyes, +And sees and hears not: smiles and sighs +As flowers ephemeral fall and rise + About its birth, about its way, +And pass as love and sorrow pass, +As shadows flashing down a glass, +As dew-flowers blowing in flowerless grass, + As hope from yesterday. + +The blossom of the sunny dew +That now the stronger sun strikes through +Fades off the blade whereon it blew +No fleetlier than the flowers that grew + On hope’s green stem in life’s fierce light. +Nor might the glory soon to sit +Awhile on Balen’s crest alit +Outshine the shadow of doom on it + Or stay death’s wings from flight. + +Dawn on a golden moorland side +By holt and heath saw Balen ride +And Launceor after, pricked with pride +And stung with spurring envy: wide + And far he had ridden athwart strange lands +And sought amiss the man he found +And cried on, till the stormy sound +Rang as a rallying trumpet round + That fires men’s hearts and hands. + +Abide he bade him: nor was need +To bid when Balen wheeled his steed +Fiercely, less fain by word than deed +To bid his envier evil speed, + And cried, “What wilt thou with me?” Loud +Rang Launceor’s vehement answer: “Knight, +To avenge on thee the dire despite +Thou hast done us all in Arthur’s sight + I stand toward Arthur vowed.” + +“Ay?” Balen said: “albeit I see +I needs must deal in strife with thee, +Light is the wyte thou layest on me; +For her I slew and sinned not, she + Was dire in all men’s eyes as death, +Or none were lother found than I +By me to bid a woman die: +As lief were loyal men to lie, + Or scorn what honour saith.” + +As the arched wave’s weight against the reef +Hurls, and is hurled back like a leaf +Storm-shrivelled, and its rage of grief +Speaks all the loud broad sea in brief, + And quells the hearkening hearts of men, +Or as the crash of overfalls +Down under blue smooth water brawls +Like jarring steel on ruining walls, + So rang their meeting then. + +As wave on wave shocks, and confounds +The bounding bulk whereon it bounds +And breaks and shattering seaward sounds +As crying of the old sea’s wolves and hounds + That moan and ravin and rage and wail, +So steed on steed encountering sheer +Shocked, and the strength of Launceor’s spear +Shivered on Balen’s shield, and fear + Bade hope within him quail. + +But Balen’s spear through Launceor’s shield +Clove as a ploughshare cleaves the field +And pierced the hauberk triple-steeled, +That horse with horseman stricken reeled, + And as a storm-breached rock falls, fell. +And Balen turned his horse again +And wist not yet his foe lay slain, +And saw him dead that sought his bane + And wrought and fared not well. + +Suddenly, while he gazed and stood, +And mused in many-minded mood +If life or death were evil or good, +Forth of a covert of a wood + That skirted half the moorland lea +Fast rode a maiden flower-like white +Full toward that fair wild place of fight, +Anhungered of the woful sight + God gave her there to see. + +And seeing the man there fallen and dead, +She cried against the sun that shed +Light on the living world, and said, +“O Balen, slayer whose hand is red, + Two bodies and one heart thou hast slain, +Two hearts within one body: aye, +Two souls thou hast lost; by thee they die, +Cast out of sight of earth and sky + And all that made them fain.” + +And from the dead his sword she caught, +And fell in trance that wist of nought, +Swooning: but softly Balen sought +To win from her the sword she thought + To die on, dying by Launceor’s side. +Again her wakening wail outbroke +As wildly, sword in hand, she woke +And struck one swift and bitter stroke + That healed her, and she died. + +And sorrowing for their strange love’s sake +Rode Balen forth by lawn and lake, +By moor and moss and briar and brake, +And in his heart their sorrow spake + Whose lips were dumb as death, and said +Mute words of presage blind and vain +As rain-stars blurred and marred by rain +To wanderers on a moonless main + Where night and day seem dead. + +Then toward a sunbright wildwood side +He looked and saw beneath it ride +A knight whose arms afar espied +By note of name and proof of pride + Bare witness of his brother born, +His brother Balan, hard at hand, +Twin flower of bright Northumberland, +Twin sea-bird of their loud sea-strand, + Twin song-bird of their morn. + +Ah then from Balen passed away +All dread of night, all doubt of day, +All care what life or death might say, +All thought of all worse months than May: + Only the might of joy in love +Brake forth within him as a fire, +And deep delight in deep desire +Of far-flown days whose full-souled quire + Rang round from the air above. + +From choral earth and quiring air +Rang memories winged like songs that bear +Sweet gifts for spirit and sense to share: +For no man’s life knows love more fair + And fruitful of memorial things +Than this the deep dear love that breaks +With sense of life on life, and makes +The sundawn sunnier as it wakes + Where morning round it rings. + +“O brother, O my brother!” cried +Each upon each, and cast aside +Their helms unbraced that might not hide +From sight of memory single-eyed + The likeness graven of face and face, +And kissed and wept upon each other +For joy and pity of either brother, +And love engrafted by sire and mother, + God’s natural gift of grace. + +And each with each took counsel meet +For comfort, making sorrow sweet, +And grief a goodly thing to greet: +And word from word leapt light and fleet + Till all the venturous tale was told, +And how in Balen’s hope it lay +To meet the wild Welsh king and slay, +And win from Arthur back for pay + The grace he gave of old. + +“And thither will not thou with me +And win as great a grace for thee?” +“That will I well,” quoth Balan: “we +Will cleave together, bound and free, + As brethren should, being twain and one.” +But ere they parted thence there came +A creature withered as with flame, +A dwarf mismade in nature’s shame, + Between them and the sun. + +And riding fleet as fire may glide +He found the dead lie side by side, +And wailed and rent his hair and cried, +“Who hath done this deed?” And Balen eyed + The strange thing loathfully, and said, +“The knight I slew, who found him fain +And keen to slay me: seeing him slain, +The maid I sought to save in vain, + Self-stricken, here lies dead. + +“Sore grief was mine to see her die, +And for her true faith’s sake shall I +Love, and with love of heart more high, +All women better till I die.” + “Alas,” the dwarf said, “ill for thee +In evil hour this deed was done: +For now the quest shall be begun +Against thee, from the dawning sun + Even to the sunset sea. + +“From shore to mountain, dawn to night, +The kinsfolk of this great dead knight +Will chase thee to thy death.” A light +Of swift blithe scorn flashed answer bright + As fire from Balen’s eye. “For that, +Small fear shall fret my heart,” quoth he: +“But that my lord the king should be +For this dead man’s sake wroth with me, + Weep might it well thereat.” + +Then murmuring passed the dwarf away, +And toward the knights in fair array +Came riding eastward up the way +From where the flower-soft lowlands lay + A king whose name the sweet south-west +Held high in honour, and the land +That bowed beneath his gentle hand +Wore on its wild bright northern strand + Tintagel for a crest. + +And Balen hailed with homage due +King Mark of Cornwall, when he knew +The pennon that before him flew: +And for those lovers dead and true + The king made moan to hear their doom; +And for their sorrow’s sake he sware +To seek in all the marches there +The church that man might find most fair + And build therein their tomb. + + + +V + + +As thought from thought takes wing and flies, +As month on month with sunlit eyes +Tramples and triumphs in its rise, +As wave smites wave to death and dies, + So chance on hurtling chance like steel +Strikes, flashes, and is quenched, ere fear +Can whisper hope, or hope can hear, +If sorrow or joy be far or near + For time to hurt or heal. + +Swift as a shadow and strange as light +That cleaves in twain the shadow of night +Before the wide-winged word takes flight +That thunder speaks to depth and height + And quells the quiet hour with sound, +There came before King Mark and stood +Between the moorside and the wood +The man whose word God’s will made good, + Nor guile was in it found. + +And Merlin said to Balen: “Lo, +Thou hast wrought thyself a grievous woe +To let this lady die, and know +Thou mightst have stayed her deadly blow.” + And Balen answered him and said, +“Nay, by my truth to faith, not I, +So fiercely fain she was to die; +Ere well her sword had flashed on high, + Self-slain she lay there dead.” + +Again and sadly Merlin spake: +“My heart is wrung for this deed’s sake, +To know thee therefore doomed to take +Upon thine hand a curse, and make + Three kingdoms pine through twelve years’ change, +In want and woe: for thou shalt smite +The man most noble and truest knight +That looks upon the live world’s light + A dolorous stroke and strange. + +“And not till years shall round their goal +May this man’s wound thou hast given be whole.” +And Balen, stricken through the soul +By dark-winged words of doom and dole, + Made answer: “If I wist it were +No lie but sooth thou sayest of me, +Then even to make a liar of thee +Would I too slay myself, and see + How death bids dead men fare.” + +And Merlin took his leave and passed +And was not: and the shadow as fast +Went with him that his word had cast, +Too fleet for thought thereof to last: + And there those brethren bade King Mark +Farewell: but fain would Mark have known +The strong knight’s name who had overthrown +The pride of Launceor, when it shone + Bright as it now lay dark. + +And Balan for his brother spake, +Saying: “Sir, albeit him list not break +The seal of secret time, nor shake +Night off him ere his morning wake, + By these two swords he is girt withal +May men that praise him, knights and lords, +Call him the knight that bears two swords, +And all the praise his fame accords + Make answer when they call.” + +So parted they toward eventide; +And tender twilight, heavy-eyed, +Saw deep down glimmering woodlands ride +Balen and Balan side by side, + Till where the leaves grew dense and dim +Again they spied from far draw near +The presence of the sacred seer, +But so disguised and strange of cheer + That seeing they knew not him. + +“Now whither ride ye,” Merlin said, +“Through shadows that the sun strikes red, +Ere night be born or day be dead?” +But they, for doubt half touched with dread, + Would say not where their goal might lie. +“And thou,” said Balen, “what art thou, +To walk with shrouded eye and brow?” +He said: “Me lists not show thee now + By name what man am I.” + +“Ill seen is this of thee,” said they, +“That thou art true in word and way +Nor fain to fear the face of day, +Who wilt not as a true man say + The name it shames not him to bear.” +He answered: “Be it or be it not so, +Yet why ye ride this way I know, +To meet King Ryons as a foe, + And how your hope shall fare. + +“Well, if ye hearken toward my rede, +Ill, if ye hear not, shall ye speed.” +“Ah, now,” they cried, “thou art ours at need +What Merlin saith we are fain to heed.” + “Great worship shall ye win,” said he, +“And look that ye do knightly now, +For great shall be your need, I trow.” +And Balen smiled: “By knighthood’s vow, + The best we may will we.” + +Then Merlin bade them turn and take +Rest, for their good steeds’ weary sake, +Between the highway and the brake, +Till starry midnight bade them wake: + Then “Rise,” he said, “the king is nigh, +Who hath stolen from all his host away +With threescore horse in armed array, +The goodliest knights that bear his sway + And hold his kingdom high. + +“And twenty ride of them before +To bear his errand, ere the door +Turn of the night, sealed fast no more, +And sundawn bid the stars wax hoar; + For by the starshine of to-night +He seeks a leman where she waits +His coming, dark and swift as fate’s, +And hearkens toward the unopening gates + That yield not him to sight. + +Then through the glimmering gloom around +A shadowy sense of light and sound +Made, ere the proof thereof were found, +The brave blithe hearts within them bound, + And “Where,” quoth Balen, “rides the king?” +But softer spake the seer: “Abide, +Till hither toward your spears he ride, +Where all the narrowing woodland side + Grows dense with boughs that cling.” + +There in that straitening way they met +The wild Welsh host against them set, +And smote their strong king down, ere yet +His hurrying horde of spears might get + Fierce vantage of them. Then the fight +Grew great and joyous as it grew, +For left and right those brethren slew, +Till all the lawn waxed red with dew + More deep than dews of night. + +And ere the full fierce tale was read +Full forty lay before them dead, +And fast the hurtling remnant fled +And wist not whither fear had led: + And toward the king they went again, +And would have slain him: but he bowed +Before them, crying in fear aloud +For grace they gave him, seeing the proud + Wild king brought lowest of men. + +And ere the wildwood leaves were stirred +With song or wing of wakening bird, +In Camelot was Merlin’s word +With joy in joyous wonder heard + That told of Arthur’s bitterest foe +Diskingdomed and discomfited. +“By whom?” the high king smiled and said. +He answered: “Ere the dawn wax red, + To-morrow bids you know. + +“Two knights whose heart and hope are one +And fain to win your grace have done +This work whereby if grace be won +Their hearts shall hail the enkindling sun + With joy more keen and deep than day.” +And ere the sundawn drank the dew +Those brethren with their prisoner drew +To the outer guard they gave him to + And passed again away. + +And Arthur came as toward his guest +To greet his foe, and bade him rest +As one returned from nobler quest +And welcome from the stormbright west, + But by what chance he fain would hear. +“The chance was hard and strange, sir king,” +Quoth Ryons, bowed in thanksgiving. +“Who won you?” Arthur said: “the thing + Is worth a warrior’s ear.” + +The wild king flushed with pride and shame, +Answering: “I know not either name +Of those that there against us came +And withered all our strength like flame: + The knight that bears two swords is one, +And one his brother: not on earth +May men meet men of knightlier worth +Nor mightier born of mortal birth + That hail the sovereign sun.” + +And Arthur said: “I know them not +But much am I for this, God wet, +Beholden to them: Launcelot +Nor Tristram, when the war waxed hot + Along the marches east and west, +Wrought ever nobler work than this.” +“Ah,” Merlin said, “sore pity it is +And strange mischance of doom, I wis, + That death should mar their quest. + +“Balen, the perfect knight that won +The sword whose name is malison, +And made his deed his doom, is one: +Nor hath his brother Balan done + Less royal service: not on earth +Lives there a nobler knight, more strong +Of soul to win men’s praise in song, +Albeit the light abide not long + That lightened round his birth. + +“Yea, and of all sad things I know +The heaviest and the highest in woe +Is this, the doom whose date brings low +Too soon in timeless overthrow + A head so high, a hope so sure. +The greatest moan for any knight +That ever won fair fame in fight +Shall be for Balen, seeing his might + Must now not long endure.” + +“Alas,” King Arthur said, “he hath shown +Such love to me-ward that the moan +Made of him should be mine alone +Above all other, knowing it known + I have ill deserved it of him.” “Nay,” +Said Merlin, “he shall do for you +Much more, when time shall be anew, +Than time hath given him chance to do + Or hope may think to say. + +“But now must be your powers purveyed +To meet, ere noon of morn be made +To-morrow, all the host arrayed +Of this wild foe’s wild brother, laid + Around against you: see to it well, +For now I part from you.” And soon, +When sundawn slew the withering moon, +Two hosts were met to win the boon + Whose tale is death’s to tell. + +A lordly tale of knights and lords +For death to tell by count of swords +When war’s wild harp in all its chords +Rang royal triumph, and the hordes + Of hurtling foemen rocked and reeled +As waves wind-thwarted on the sea, +Was told of all that there might be, +Till scarce might battle hear or see + The fortune of the field. + +And many a knight won fame that day +When even the serpent soul of Kay +Was kindled toward the fiery play +As might a lion’s be for prey, + And won him fame that might not die +With passing of his rancorous breath +But clung about his life and death +As fire that speaks in cloud, and saith + What strong men hear and fly. + +And glorious works were Arthur’s there, +That lit the battle-darkened air: +But when they saw before them fare +Like stars of storm the knight that bare + Two swords about him girt for fray, +Balen, and Balan with him, then +Strong wonder smote the souls of men +If heaven’s own host or hell’s deep den + Had sent them forth to slay. + +So keen they rode across the fight, +So sharp they smote to left and right, +And made of hurtling darkness light +With lightning of their swords, till flight + And fear before them flew like flame, +That Arthur’s self had never known, +He said, since first his blast was blown, +Such lords of war as these alone + That whence he knew not came. + +But while the fire of war waxed hot +The wild king hearkened, hearing not, +Through storm of spears and arrow-shot, +For succour toward him from King Lot + And all his host of sea-born men, +Strong as the strong storm-baffling bird +Whose cry round Orkney’s headlands heard +Is as the sea’s own sovereign word + That mocks our mortal ken. + +For Merlin’s craft of prophecy, +Who wist that one of twain must die, +Put might in him to say thereby +Which head should lose its crown, and lie + Stricken, though loth he were to know +That either life should wane and fail; +Yet most might Arthur’s love avail, +And still with subtly tempered tale + His wile held fast the foe. + +With woven words of magic might +Wherein the subtle shadow and light +Changed hope and fear till fear took flight, +He stayed King Lot’s fierce lust of fight + Till all the wild Welsh war was driven +As foam before the wind that wakes +With the all-awakening sun, and breaks +Strong ships that rue the mirth it makes + When grace to slay is given. + +And ever hotter lit and higher, +As fire that meets encountering fire, +Waxed in King Lot his keen desire +To bid revenge within him tire + On Arthur’s ravaged fame and life: +Across the waves of war between +Floated and flashed, unseen and seen, +The lustrous likeness of the queen + Whom shame had sealed his wife. + +But when the woful word was brought +That while he tarried, doubting nought, +The hope was lost whose goal he sought +And all the fight he yearned for fought, + His heart was rent for grief and shame, +And half his hope was set on flight +Till word was given him of a knight +Who said: “They are weary and worn with fight, + And we more fresh than flame.” + +And bright and dark as night and day +Ere either find the unopening way +Clear, and forego the unaltering sway, +The sad king’s face shone, frowning: “Yea, + I would that every knight of mine +Would do his part as I shall do,” +He said, “till death or life anew +Shall judge between us as is due + With wiser doom than thine.” + +Then thundered all the awakening field +With crash of hosts that clashed and reeled, +Banner to banner, shield to shield, +And spear to splintering spear-shaft, steeled + As heart against high heart of man, +As hope against high hope of knight +To pluck the crest and crown of fight +From war’s clenched hand by storm’s wild light, + For blessing given or ban. + +All hearts of hearkening men that heard +The ban twin-born with blessing, stirred +Like springtide waters, knew the word +Whereby the steeds of storm are spurred + With ravenous rapture to destroy, +And laughed for love of battle, pierced +With passion of tempestuous thirst +And hungering hope to assuage it first + With draughts of stormy joy. + +But sheer ahead of the iron tide +That rocked and roared from side to side +Rode as the lightning’s lord might ride +King Lot, whose heart was set to abide + All peril of the raging hour, +And all his host of warriors born +Where lands by warring seas are worn +Was only by his hands upborne + Who gave them pride and power. + +But as the sea’s hand smites the shore +And shatters all the strengths that bore +The ravage earth may bear no more, +So smote the hand of Pellinore + Charging, a knight of Arthur’s chief, +And clove his strong steed’s neck in twain, +And smote him sheer through brow and brain, +Falling: and there King Lot lay slain, + And knew not wrath or grief. + +And all the host of Orkney fled, +And many a mother’s son lay dead: +But when they raised the stricken head +Whence pride and power and shame were fled + And rage and anguish now cast out, +And bore it toward a kingly tomb, +The wife whose love had wrought his doom +Came thither, fair as morning’s bloom + And dark as twilight’s doubt. + +And there her four strong sons and his, +Gawain and Gareth, Gaherys +And Agravain, whose sword’s sharp kiss +With sound of hell’s own serpent’s hiss + Should one day turn her life to death, +Stood mourning with her: but by these +Seeing Mordred as a seer that sees, +Anguish of terror bent her knees + And caught her shuddering breath. + +The splendour of her sovereign eyes +Flashed darkness deeper than the skies +Feel or fear when the sunset dies +On his that felt as midnight rise + Their doom upon them, there undone +By faith in fear ere thought could yield +A shadowy sense of days revealed, +The ravin of the final field, + The terror of their son. + +For Arthur’s, as they caught the light +That sought and durst not seek his sight, +Darkened, and all his spirit’s might +Withered within him even as night + Withers when sunrise thrills the sea. +But Mordred’s lightened as with fire +That smote his mother and his sire +With darkling doom and deep desire + That bade its darkness be. + +And heavier on their hearts the weight +Sank of the fear that brings forth fate, +The bitter doubt whose womb is great +With all the grief and love and hate + That turn to fire men’s days on earth. +And glorious was the funeral made, +And dark the deepening dread that swayed +Their darkening souls whose light grew shade + With sense of death in birth. + + + +VI + + +In autumn, when the wind and sea +Rejoice to live and laugh to be, +And scarce the blast that curbs the tree +And bids before it quail and flee + The fiery foliage, where its brand +Is radiant as the seal of spring, +Sounds less delight, and waves a wing +Less lustrous, life’s loud thanksgiving + Puts life in sea and land. + +High hope in Balen’s heart alight +Laughed, as from all that clamorous fight +He passed and sought not Arthur’s sight, +Who fain had found his kingliest knight + And made amend for Balen’s wrong. +But Merlin gave his soul to see +Fate, rising as a shoreward sea, +And all the sorrow that should be + Ere hope or fear thought long. + +“O where are they whose hands upbore +My battle,” Arthur said, “before +The wild Welsh host’s wide rage and roar? +Balen and Balan, Pellinore, + Where are they?” Merlin answered him: +“Balen shall be not long away +From sight of you, but night nor day +Shall bring his brother back to say + If life burn bright or dim.” + +“Now, by my faith,” said Arthur then, +“Two marvellous knights are they, whose ken +Toward battle makes the twain as ten, +And Balen most of all born men + Passeth of prowess all I know +Or ever found or sought to see: +Would God he would abide with me, +To face the times foretold of thee + And all the latter woe.” + +For there had Merlin shown the king +The doom that songs unborn should sing, +The gifts that time should rise and bring +Of blithe and bitter days to spring + As weeds and flowers against the sun. +And on the king for fear’s sake fell +Sickness, and sorrow deep as hell, +Nor even might sleep bid fear farewell + If grace to sleep were won. + +Down in a meadow green and still +He bade the folk that wrought his will +Pitch his pavilion, where the chill +Soft night would let not rest fulfil + His heart wherein dark fears lay deep. +And sharp against his hearing cast +Came a sound as of horsehoofs fast +Passing, that ere their sound were past + Aroused him as from sleep. + +And forth he looked along the grass +And saw before his portal pass +A knight that wailed aloud, “Alas +That life should find this dolorous pass + And find no shield from doom and dole!” +And hearing all his moan, “Abide, +Fair sir,” the king arose and cried, +“And say what sorrow bids you ride + So sorrowful of soul.” + +“My hurt may no man heal, God wot, +And help of man may speed me not,” +The sad knight said, “nor change my lot.” +And toward the castle of Melyot + Whose towers arose a league away +He passed forth sorrowing: and anon, +Ere well the woful sight were gone, +Came Balen down the meads that shone, + Strong, bright, and brave as day. + +And seeing the king there stand, the knight +Drew rein before his face to alight +In reverence made for love’s sake bright +With joy that set his face alight + As theirs who see, alive, above, +The sovereign of their souls, whose name +To them is even as love’s own flame +To enkindle hope that heeds not fame + And knows no lord but love. + +And Arthur smiled on him, and said, +“Right welcome be thou: by my head, +I would not wish me better sped. +For even but now there came and fled + Before me like a cloud that flies +A knight that made most heavy cheer, +I know not wherefore; nor may fear +Or pity give my heart to hear + Or lighten on mine eyes. + +“But even for fear’s and pity’s sake +Fain were I thou shouldst overtake +And fetch again this knight that spake +No word of answering grace to make + Reply to mine that hailed him: thou, +By force or by goodwill, shalt bring +His face before me.” “Yea, my king,” +Quoth Balen, “and a greater thing + Were less than is my vow. + +“I would the task required and heard +Were heavier than your sovereign word +Hath laid on me:” and thence he spurred +Elate at heart as youth, and stirred + With hope as blithe as fires a boy: +And many a mile he rode, and found +Far in a forest’s glimmering bound +The man he sought afar around + And seeing took fire for joy. + +And with him went a maiden, fair +As flowers aflush with April air. +And Balen bade him turn him there +To tell the king what woes they were + That bowed him down so sore: and he +Made woeful answer: “This should do +Great scathe to me, with nought for you +Of help that hope might hearken to + For boot that may not be.” + +And Balen answered: “I were loth +To fight as one perforce made wroth +With one that owes by knighthood’s oath +One love, one service, and one troth + With me to him whose gracious hand +Holds fast the helm of knighthood here +Whereby man’s hope and heart may steer: +I pray you let not sorrow or fear + Against his bidding stand.” + +The strange knight gazed on him, and spake: +“Will you, for Arthur’s royal sake, +Be warrant for me that I take +No scathe from strife that man may make? + Then will I go with you.” And he +Made joyous answer: “Yea, for I +Will be your warrant or will die.” +And thence they rode with hearts as high + As men’s that search the sea. + +And as by noon’s large light the twain +Before the tented hall drew rein, +Suddenly fell the strange knight, slain +By one that came and went again + And none might see him; but his spear +Clove through the body, swift as fire, +The man whose doom, forefelt as dire, +Had darkened all his life’s desire, + As one that death held dear. + +And dying he turned his face and said, +“Lo now thy warrant that my head +Should fall not, following forth where led +A knight whose pledge hath left me dead. + This darkling manslayer hath to name +Garlon: take thou my goodlier steed, +Seeing thine is less of strength and speed, +And ride, if thou be knight indeed, + Even thither whence we came. + +“And as the maiden’s fair behest +Shall bid you follow on my quest, +Follow: and when God’s will sees best, +Revenge my death, and let me rest + As one that lived and died a knight, +Unstained of shame alive or dead.” +And Balen, wrung with sorrow, said, +“That shall I do: my hand and head + I pledge to do you right.” + +And thence with sorrowing heart and cheer +He rode, in grief that cast out fear +Lest death in darkness yet were near, +And bore the truncheon of the spear + Wherewith the woful knight lay slain +To her with whom he rode, and she +Still bare it with her, fain to see +What righteous doom of God’s might be + The darkling manslayer’s bane. + +And down a dim deep woodland way +They rode between the boughs asway +With flickering winds whose flash and play +Made sunlight sunnier where the day + Laughed, leapt, and fluttered like a bird +Caught in a light loose leafy net +That earth for amorous heaven had set +To hold and see the sundawn yet + And hear what morning heard. + +There in the sweet soft shifting light +Across their passage rode a knight +Flushed hot from hunting as from fight, +And seeing the sorrow-stricken sight + Made question of them why they rode +As mourners sick at heart and sad, +When all alive about them bade +Sweet earth for heaven’s sweet sake be glad + As heaven for earth’s love glowed. + +“Me lists not tell you,” Balen said. +The strange knight’s face grew keen and red +“Now, might my hand but keep my head, +Even here should one of twain lie dead + Were he no better armed than I.” +And Balen spake with smiling speed, +Where scorn and courtesy kept heed +Of either: “That should little need: + Not here shall either die.” + +And all the cause he told him through +As one that feared not though he knew +All: and the strange knight spake anew, +Saying: “I will part no more from you + While life shall last me.” So they went +Where he might arm himself to ride, +And rode across wild ways and wide +To where against a churchyard side + A hermit’s harbour leant. + +And there against them riding came +Fleet as the lightning’s laugh and flame +The invisible evil, even the same +They sought and might not curse by name + As hell’s foul child on earth set free, +And smote the strange knight through, and fled, +And left the mourners by the dead. +“Alas, again,” Sir Balen said, + “This wrong he hath done to me.” + +And there they laid their dead to sleep +Royally, lying where wild winds keep +Keen watch and wail more soft and deep +Than where men’s choirs bid music weep + And song like incense heave and swell. +And forth again they rode, and found +Before them, dire in sight and sound, +A castle girt about and bound + With sorrow like a spell. + +Above it seemed the sun at noon +Sad as a wintry withering moon +That shudders while the waste wind’s tune +Craves ever none may guess what boon, + But all may know the boon for dire. +And evening on its darkness fell +More dark than very death’s farewell, +And night about it hung like hell, + Whose fume the dawn made fire. + +And Balen lighted down and passed +Within the gateway, whence no blast +Rang as the sheer portcullis, cast +Suddenly down, fell, and made fast + The gate behind him, whence he spied +A sudden rage of men without +And ravin of a murderous rout +That girt the maiden hard about + With death on either side. + +And seeing that shame and peril, fear +Bade wrath and grief awake and hear +What shame should say in fame’s wide ear +If she, by sorrow sealed more dear + Than joy might make her, so should die: +And up the tower’s curled stair he sprang +As one that flies death’s deadliest fang, +And leapt right out amid their gang + As fire from heaven on high. + +And they thereunder seeing the knight +Unhurt among their press alight +And bare his sword for chance of fight +Stood from him, loth to strive or smite, + And bade him hear their woful word, +That not the maiden’s death they sought; +But there through years too dire for thought +Had lain their lady stricken, and nought + Might heal her: and he heard. + +For there a maiden clean and whole +In virgin body and virgin soul, +Whose name was writ on royal roll, +That would but stain a silver bowl + With offering of her stainless blood, +Therewith might heal her: so they stayed +For hope’s sad sake each blameless maid +There journeying in that dolorous shade + Whose bloom was bright in bud. + +No hurt nor harm to her it were +If she should yield a sister there +Some tribute of her blood, and fare +Forth with this joy at heart to bear, + That all unhurt and unafraid +This grace she had here by God’s grace wrought. +And kindling all with kindly thought +And love that saw save love’s self nought, + Shone, smiled, and spake the maid. + +“Good knight of mine, good will have I +To help this healing though I die.” +“Nay,” Balen said, “but love may try +What help in living love may lie. + —I will not lose the life of her +While my life lasteth.” So she gave +The tribute love was fain to crave, +But might not heal though fain to save, + Were God’s grace helpfuller. + +Another maid in later Mays +Won with her life that woful praise, +And died. But they, when surging day’s +Deep tide fulfilled the dawn’s wide ways, + Rode forth, and found by day or night +No chance to cross their wayfaring +Till when they saw the fourth day spring +A knight’s hall gave them harbouring + Rich as a king’s house might. + +And while they sat at meat and spake +Words bright and kind as grace might make +Sweet for true knighthood’s kindly sake, +They heard a cry beside them break + The still-souled joy of blameless rest. +“What noise is this?” quoth Balen. “Nay,” +His knightly host made answer, “may +Our grief not grieve you though I say + How here I dwell unblest. + +“Not many a day has lived and died +Since at a tournay late I tried +My strength to smite and turn and ride +Against a knight of kinglike pride, + King Pellam’s brother: twice I smote +The splendour of his strength to dust: +And he, fulfilled of hate’s fierce lust, +Swore vengeance, pledged for hell to trust, + And keen as hell’s wide throat. + +“Invisible as the spirit of night +That heaven and earth in depth and height +May see not by the mild moon’s light +Nor even when stars would grant them sight, + He walks and slays as plague’s blind breath +Slays: and my son, whose anguish here +Makes moan perforce that mars our cheer, +He wounded, even ere love might fear + That hate were strong as death. + +“Nor may my son be whole till he +Whose stroke through him hath stricken me +Shall give again his blood to be +Our healing: yet may no man see + This felon, clothed with darkness round +And keen as lightning’s life.” Thereon +Spake Balen, and his presence shone +Even as the sun’s when stars are gone + That hear dawn’s trumpet sound. + +“That knight I know: two knights of mine, +Two comrades, sealed by faith’s bright sign, +Whose eyes as ours that live should shine, +And drink the golden sunlight’s wine + With joy’s thanksgiving that they live, +He hath slain in even the same blind wise: +Were all wide wealth beneath the skies +Mine, might I meet him, eyes on eyes, + All would I laugh to give.” + +His host made answer, and his gaze +Grew bright with trust as dawn’s moist maze +With fire: “Within these twenty days, +King Pellam, lord of Lystenayse, + Holds feast through all this country cried, +And there before the knightly king +May no knight come except he bring +For witness of his wayfaring + His paramour or bride. + +“And there that day, so soon to shine, +This knight, your felon foe and mine, +Shall show, full-flushed with bloodred wine, +The fierce false face whereon we pine + To wreak the wrong he hath wrought us, bare +As shame should see and brand it.” “Then,” +Said Balen, “shall he give again +His blood to heal your son, and men + Shall see death blind him there.” + +“Forth will we fare to-morrow,” said +His host: and forth, as sunrise led, +They rode; and fifteen days were fled +Ere toward their goal their steeds had sped. + And there alighting might they find +For Balen’s host no place to rest, +Who came without a gentler guest +Beside him: and that household’s hest + Bade leave his sword behind. + +“Nay,” Balen said, “that do I not: +My country’s custom stands, God wot, +That none whose lot is knighthood’s lot, +To ride where chance as fire is hot + With hope or promise given of fight, +Shall fail to keep, for knighthood’s part, +His weapon with him as his heart; +And as I came will I depart, + Or hold herein my right.” + +Then gat he leave to wear his sword +Beside the strange king’s festal board +Where feasted many a knight and lord +In seemliness of fair accord: + And Balen asked of one beside, +“Is there not in this court, if fame +Keep faith, a knight that hath to name +Garlon?” and saying that word of shame, + He scanned that place of pride. + +“Yonder he goeth against the light, +He with the face as swart as night,” +Quoth the other: “but he rides to fight +Hid round by charms from all men’s sight, + And many a noble knight he hath slain, +Being wrapt in darkness deep as hell +And silence dark as shame.” “Ah, well,” +Said Balen, “is that he? the spell + May be the sorcerer’s bane.” + +Then Balen gazed upon him long, +And thought, “If here I wreak my wrong, +Alive I may not scape, so strong +The felon’s friends about him throng; + And if I leave him here alive, +This chance perchance may life not give +Again: much evil, if he live, +He needs must do, should fear forgive + When wrongs bid strike and strive.” + +And Garlon, seeing how Balen’s eye +Dwelt on him as his heart waxed high +With joy in wrath to see him nigh, +Rose wolf-like with a wolfish cry + And crossed and smote him on the face, +Saying, “Knight, what wouldst thou with me? Eat, +For shame, and gaze not: eat thy meat +Do that thou art come for: stands thy seat + Next ours of royal race?” + +“Well hast thou said: thy rede rings true; +That which I came for will I do,” +Quoth Balen: forth his fleet sword flew, +And clove the head of Garlon through + Clean to the shoulders. Then he cried +Loud to his lady, “Give me here +The truncheon of the shameful spear +Wherewith he slew your knight, when fear + Bade hate in darkness ride.” + +And gladly, bright with grief made glad, +She gave the truncheon as he bade, +For still she bare it with her, sad +And strong in hopeless hope she had, + Through all dark days of thwarting fear, +To see if doom should fall aright +And as God’s fire-fraught thunder smite +That head, clothed round with hell-faced night, + Bare now before her here. + +And Balen smote therewith the dead +Dark felon’s body through, and said +Aloud, “With even this truncheon, red +With baser blood than brave men bled + Whom in thy shameful hand it slew, +Thou hast slain a nobler knight, and now +It clings and cleaves thy body: thou +Shall cleave again no brave man’s brow, + Though hell would aid anew.” + +And toward his host he turned and spake; +“Now for your son’s long-suffering sake +Blood ye may fetch enough, and take +Wherewith to heal his hurt, and make + Death warm as life.” Then rose a cry +Loud as the wind’s when stormy spring +Makes all the woodland rage and ring: +“Thou hast slain my brother,” said the king, + “And here with him shalt die.” + +“Ay?” Balen laughed him answer. “Well, +Do it then thyself.” And the answer fell +Fierce as a blast of hate from hell, +“No man of mine that with me dwell + Shall strike at thee but I their lord +For love of this my brother slain.” +And Pellam caught and grasped amain +A grim great weapon, fierce and fain + To feed his hungering sword. + +And eagerly he smote, and sped +Not well: for Balen’s blade, yet red +With lifeblood of the murderous dead, +Between the swordstroke and his head + Shone, and the strength of the eager stroke +Shore it in sunder: then the knight, +Naked and weaponless for fight, +Ran seeking him a sword to smite + As hope within him woke. + +And so their flight for deathward fast +From chamber forth to chamber passed +Where lay no weapon, till the last +Whose doors made way for Balen cast + Upon him as a sudden spell +Wonder that even as lightning leapt +Across his heart and eyes, and swept +As storm across his soul that kept + Wild watch, and watched not well. + +For there the deed he did, being near +Death’s danger, breathless as the deer +Driven hard to bay, but void of fear, +Brought sorrow down for many a year + On many a man in many a land. +All glorious shone that chamber, bright +As burns at sunrise heaven’s own height: +With cloth of gold the bed was dight, + That flamed on either hand. + +And one he saw within it lie: +A table of all clear gold thereby +Stood stately, fair as morning’s eye, +With four strong silver pillars, high + And firm as faith and hope may be: +And on it shone the gift he sought, +A spear most marvellously wrought, +That when his eye and handgrip caught + Small fear at heart had he. + +Right on King Pellam then, as fire +Turns when the thwarting winds wax higher, +He turned, and smote him down. So dire +The stroke was, when his heart’s desire + Struck, and had all its fill of hate, +That as the king fell swooning down +Fell the walls, rent from base to crown, +Prone as prone seas that break and drown + Ships fraught with doom for freight. + +And there for three days’ silent space +Balen and Pellam face to face +Lay dead or deathlike, and the place +Was death’s blind kingdom, till the grace + That God had given the sacred seer +For counsel or for comfort led +His Merlin thither, and he said, +Standing between the quick and dead, + “Rise up, and rest not here.” + +And Balen rose and set his eyes +Against the seer’s as one that tries +His heart against the sea’s and sky’s +And fears not if he lives or dies, + Saying, “I would have my damosel, +Ere I fare forth, to fare with me.” +And sadly Merlin answered, “See +Where now she lies; death knows if she + Shall now fare ill or well. + +“And in this world we meet no more, +Balen.” And Balen, sorrowing sore, +Though fearless yet the heart he bore +Beat toward the life that lay before, + Rode forth through many a wild waste land +Where men cried out against him, mad +With grievous faith in fear that bade +Their wrath make moan for doubt they had + Lest hell had armed his hand. + +For in that chamber’s wondrous shrine +Was part of Christ’s own blood, the wine +Shed of the true triumphal vine +Whose growth bids earth’s deep darkness shine + As heaven’s deep light through the air and sea; +That mystery toward our northern shore +Arimathean Joseph bore +For healing of our sins of yore, + That grace even there might be. + +And with that spear there shrined apart +Was Christ’s side smitten to the heart. +And fiercer than the lightning’s dart +The stroke was, and the deathlike smart + Wherewith, nigh drained of blood and breath, +The king lay stricken as one long dead: +And Joseph’s was the blood there shed, +For near akin was he that bled, + Near even as life to death. + +And therefore fell on all that land +Sorrow: for still on either hand, +As Balen rode alone and scanned +Bright fields and cities built to stand + Till time should break them, dead men lay; +And loud and long from all their folk +Living, one cry that cursed him broke; +Three countries had his dolorous stroke + Slain, or should surely slay. + + + +VII + + +In winter, when the year burns low +As fire wherein no firebrands glow, +And winds dishevel as they blow +The lovely stormy wings of snow, + The hearts of northern men burn bright +With joy that mocks the joy of spring +To hear all heaven’s keen clarions ring +Music that bids the spirit sing + And day give thanks for night. + +Aloud and dark as hell or hate +Round Balen’s head the wind of fate +Blew storm and cloud from death’s wide gate: +But joy as grief in him was great + To face God’s doom and live or die, +Sorrowing for ill wrought unaware, +Rejoicing in desire to dare +All ill that innocence might bear + With changeless heart and eye. + +Yet passing fain he was when past +Those lands and woes at length and last. +Eight times, as thence he fared forth fast, +Dawn rose and even was overcast + With starry darkness dear as day, +Before his venturous quest might meet +Adventure, seeing within a sweet +Green low-lying forest, hushed in heat, + A tower that barred his way. + +Strong summer, dumb with rapture, bound +With golden calm the woodlands round +Wherethrough the knight forth faring found +A knight that on the greenwood ground + Sat mourning: fair he was to see, +And moulded as for love or fight +A maiden’s dreams might frame her knight; +But sad in joy’s far-flowering sight + As grief’s blind thrall might be. + +“God save you,” Balen softly said, +“What grief bows down your heart and head +Thus, as one sorrowing for his dead? +Tell me, if haply I may stead + In aught your sorrow, that I may.” +“Sir knight,” that other said, “thy word +Makes my grief heavier that I heard.” +And pity and wonder inly stirred + Drew Balen thence away. + +And so withdrawn with silent speed +He saw the sad knight’s stately steed, +A war-horse meet for warrior’s need, +That none who passed might choose but heed, + So strong he stood, so great, so fair, +With eyes afire for flight or fight, +A joy to look on, mild in might, +And swift and keen and kind as light, + And all as clear of care. + +And Balen, gazing on him, heard +Again his master’s woful word +Sound sorrow through the calm unstirred +By fluttering wind or flickering bird, + Thus: “Ah, fair lady and faithless, why +Break thy pledged faith to meet me? soon +An hour beyond thy trothplight noon +Shall strike my death-bell, and thy boon + Is this, that here I die. + +“My curse for all thy gifts may be +Heavier than death or night on thee; +For now this sword thou gavest me +Shall set me from thy bondage free.” + And there the man had died self-slain, +But Balen leapt on him and caught +The blind fierce hand that fain had wrought +Self-murder, stung with fire of thought, + As rage makes anguish fain. + +Then, mad for thwarted grief, “Let go +My hand,” the fool of wrath and woe +Cried, “or I slay thee.” Scarce the glow +In Balen’s cheek and eye might show, + As dawn shows day while seas lie chill, +He heard, though pity took not heed, +But smiled and spake, “That shall not need: +What man may do to bid you speed + I, so God speed me, will.” + +And the other craved his name, beguiled +By hope that made his madness mild. +Again Sir Balen spake and smiled: +“My name is Balen, called the Wild + By knights whom kings and courts make tame +Because I ride alone afar +And follow but my soul for star.” +“Ah, sir, I know the knight you are + And all your fiery fame. + +“The knight that bears two swords I know, +Most praised of all men, friend and foe, +For prowess of your hands, that show +Dark war the way where balefires glow + And kindle glory like the dawn’s.” +So spake the sorrowing knight, and stood +As one whose heart fresh hope made good: +And forth they rode by wold and wood + And down the glimmering lawns. + +And Balen craved his name who rode +Beside him, where the wild wood glowed +With joy to feel how noontide flowed +Through glade and glen and rough green road + Till earth grew joyful as the sea. +“My name is Garnysshe of the Mount, +A poor man’s son of none account,” +He said, “where springs of loftier fount + Laugh loud with pride to be. + +“But strength in weakness lives and stands +As rocks that rise through shifting sands; +And for the prowess of my hands +One made me knight and gave me lands, + Duke Hermel, lord from far to near, +Our prince; and she that loved me—she +I love, and deemed she loved but me, +His daughter, pledged her faith to be + Ere now beside me here.” + +And Balen, brief of speech as light +Whose word, beheld of depth and height, +Strikes silence through the stars of night, +Spake, and his face as dawn’s grew bright, + For hope to help a happier man, +“How far then lies she hence?” “By this,” +Her lover sighed and said, “I wis, +Not six fleet miles the passage is, + And straight as thought could span.” + +So rode they swift and sure, and found +A castle walled and dyked around: +And Balen, as a warrior bound +On search where hope might fear to sound + The darkness of the deeps of doubt, +Made entrance through the guardless gate +As life, while hope in life grows great, +Makes way between the doors of fate + That death may pass thereout. + +Through many a glorious chamber, wrought +For all delight that love’s own thought +Might dream or dwell in, Balen sought +And found of all he looked for nought, + For like a shining shell her bed +Shone void and vacant of her: thence +Through devious wonders bright and dense +He passed and saw with shame-struck sense + Where shame and faith lay dead. + +Down in a sweet small garden, fair +With flowerful joy in the ardent air, +He saw, and raged with loathing, where +She lay with love-dishevelled hair + Beneath a broad bright laurel tree +And clasped in amorous arms a knight, +The unloveliest that his scornful sight +Had dwelt on yet; a shame the bright + Broad noon might shrink to see. + +And thence in wrathful hope he turned, +Hot as the heart within him burned, +To meet the knight whose love, so spurned +And spat on and made nought of, yearned + And dreamed and hoped and lived in vain, +And said, “I have found her sleeping fast,” +And led him where the shadows cast +From leaves wherethrough light winds ran past + Screened her from sun and rain. + +But Garnysshe, seeing, reeled as he stood +Like a tree, kingliest of the wood, +Half hewn through: and the burning blood +Through lips and nostrils burst aflood: + And gathering back his rage and might +As broken breakers rally and roar +The loud wind down that drives off shore, +He smote their heads off: there no more + Their life might shame the light. + +Then turned he back toward Balen, mad +With grief, and said, “The grief I had +Was nought: ere this my life was glad: +Thou hast done this deed: I was but sad + And fearful how my hope might fare: +I had lived my sorrow down, hadst thou +Not shown me what I saw but now.” +The sorrow and scorn on Balen’s brow + Bade silence curb him there. + +And Balen answered: “What I did +I did to hearten thee and bid +Thy courage know that shame should rid +A man’s high heart of love that hid + Blind shame within its core: God knows, +I did, to set a bondman free, +But as I would thou hadst done by me, +That seeing what love must die to see + Love’s end might well be woe’s.” + +“Alas,” the woful weakling said, +“I have slain what most I loved: I have shed +The blood most near my heart: the head +Lies cold as earth, defiled and dead, + That all my life was lighted by, +That all my soul bowed down before, +And now may bear with life no more: +For now my sorrow that I bore + Is twofold, and I die.” + +Then with his red wet sword he rove +His breast in sunder, where it clove +Life, and no pulse against it strove, +So sure and strong the deep stroke drove + Deathward: and Balen, seeing him dead, +Rode thence, lest folk would say he had slain +Those three; and ere three days again +Had seen the sun’s might wax and wane, + Far forth he had spurred and sped. + +And riding past a cross whereon +Broad golden letters written shone, +Saying, “No knight born may ride alone +Forth toward this castle,” and all the stone + Glowed in the sun’s glare even as though +Blood stained it from the crucified +Dead burden of one that there had died, +An old hoar man he saw beside + Whose face was wan as woe. + +“Balen the Wild,” he said, “this way +Thy way lies not: thou hast passed to-day +Thy bands: but turn again, and stay +Thy passage, while thy soul hath sway + Within thee, and through God’s good power +It will avail thee:” and anon +His likeness as a cloud was gone, +And Balen’s heart within him shone + Clear as the cloudless hour. + +Nor fate nor fear might overcast +The soul now near its peace at last. +Suddenly, thence as forth he past, +A mighty and a deadly blast + Blown of a hunting-horn he heard, +As when the chase hath nobly sped. +“That blast is blown for me,” he said, +“The prize am I who am yet not dead,” + And smiled upon the word. + +As toward a royal hart’s death rang +That note, whence all the loud wood sang +With winged and living sound that sprang +Like fire, and keen as fire’s own fang + Pierced the sweet silence that it slew. +But nought like death or strife was here: +Fair semblance and most goodly cheer +They made him, they whose troop drew near + As death among them drew. + +A hundred ladies well arrayed +And many a knight well weaponed made +That kindly show of cheer: the glade +Shone round them till its very shade + Lightened and laughed from grove to lawn +To hear and see them: so they brought +Within a castle fair as thought +Could dream that wizard hands had wrought + The guest among them drawn. + +All manner of glorious joy was there: +Harping and dancing, loud and fair, +And minstrelsy that made of air +Fire, so like fire its raptures were. + Then the chief lady spake on high: +“Knight with the two swords, one of two +Must help you here or fall from you: +For needs you now must have ado + And joust with one hereby. + +“A good knight guards an island here +Against all swords that chance brings near, +And there with stroke of sword and spear +Must all for whom these halls make cheer + Fight, and redeem or yield up life.” +“An evil custom,” Balen said, +“Is this, that none whom chance hath led +Hither, if knighthood crown his head, + May pass unstirred to strife.” + +“You shall not have ado to fight +Here save against one only knight,” +She said, and all her face grew bright +As hell-fire, lit with hungry light + That wicked laughter touched with flame. +“Well, since I shall thereto,” said he, +“I am ready at heart as death for me: +Fain would I be where death should be + And life should lose its name. + +“But travelling men whose goal afar +Shines as a cloud-constraining star +Are often weary, and wearier are +Their steeds that feel each fret and jar + Wherewith the wild ways wound them: yet, +Albeit my horse be weary, still +My heart is nowise weary; will +Sustains it even till death fulfil + My trust upon him set.” + +“Sir,” said a knight thereby that stood, +“Meseems your shield is now not good +But worn with warrior work, nor could +Sustain in strife the strokes it would: + A larger will I lend you.” “Ay, +Thereof I thank you,” Balen said, +Being single of heart as one that read +No face aright whence faith had fled, + Nor dreamed that faith could fly. + +And so he took that shield unknown +And left for treason’s touch his own, +And toward that island rode alone, +Nor heard the blast against him blown + Sound in the wind’s and water’s sound, +But hearkening toward the stream’s edge heard +Nought save the soft stream’s rippling word, +Glad with the gladness of a bird, + That sang to the air around. + +And there against the water-side +He saw, fast moored to rock and ride, +A fair great boat anear abide +Like one that waits the turning tide, + Wherein embarked his horse and he +Passed over toward no kindly strand: +And where they stood again on land +There stood a maiden hard at hand + Who seeing them wept to see. + +And “O knight Balen,” was her cry, +“Why have ye left your own shield? why +Come hither out of time to die? +For had ye kept your shield, thereby + Ye had yet been known, and died not here. +Great pity it is of you this day +As ever was of knight, or may +Be ever, seeing in war’s bright way + Praise knows not Balen’s peer.” + +And Balen said, “Thou hast heard my name +Right: it repenteth me, though shame +May tax me not with base men’s blame, +That ever, hap what will, I came + Within this country; yet, being come, +For shame I may not turn again +Now, that myself and nobler men +May scorn me: now is more than then, + And faith bids fear be dumb. + +“Be it life or death, my chance I take, +Be it life’s to build or death’s to break: +And fall what may, me lists not make +Moan for sad life’s or death’s sad sake.” + Then looked he on his armour, glad +And high of heart, and found it strong: +And all his soul became a song +And soared in prayer that soared not long, + For all the hope it had. + +Then saw he whence against him came +A steed whose trappings shone like flame, +And he that rode him showed the same +Fierce colour, bright as fire or fame, + But dark the visors were as night +That hid from Balen Balan’s face, +And his from Balan: God’s own grace +Forsook them for a shadowy space + Where darkness cast out light. + +The two swords girt that Balen bare +Gave Balan for a breath’s while there +Pause, wondering if indeed it were +Balen his brother, bound to dare + The chance of that unhappy quest: +But seeing not as he thought to see +His shield, he deemed it was not he, +And so, as fate bade sorrow be, + They laid their spears in rest. + +So mighty was the course they ran +With spear to spear so great of span, +Each fell back stricken, man by man, +Horse by horse, borne down: so the ban + That wrought by doom against them wrought: +But Balen by his falling steed +Was bruised the sorer, being indeed +Way-weary, like a rain-bruised reed, + With travel ere he fought. + +And Balen rose again from swoon +First, and went toward him: all too soon +He too then rose, and the evil boon +Of strength came back, and the evil tune + Of battle unnatural made again +Mad music as for death’s wide ear +Listening and hungering toward the near +Last sigh that life or death might hear + At last from dying men. + +Balan smote Balen first, and clove +His lifted shield that rose and strove +In vain against the stroke that drove +Down: as the web that morning wove + Of glimmering pearl from spray to spray +Dies when the strong sun strikes it, so +Shrank the steel, tempered thrice to show +Strength, as the mad might of the blow + Shore Balen’s helm away. + +Then turning as a turning wave +Against the land-wind, blind and brave +In hope that dreams despair may save, +With even the unhappy sword that gave + The gifts of fame and fate in one +He smote his brother, and there had nigh +Felled him: and while they breathed, his eye +Glanced up, and saw beneath the sky + Sights fairer than the sun. + +The towers of all the castle there +Stood full of ladies, blithe and fair +As the earth beneath and the amorous air +About them and above them were: + So toward the blind and fateful fight +Again those brethren went, and sore +Were all the strokes they smote and bore, +And breathed again, and fell once more + To battle in their sight. + +With blood that either spilt and bled +Was all the ground they fought on red, +And each knight’s hauberk hewn and shred +Left each unmailed and naked, shed + From off them even as mantles cast: +And oft they breathed, and drew but breath +Brief as the word strong sorrow saith, +And poured and drank the draught of death, + Till fate was full at last. + +And Balan, younger born than he +Whom darkness bade him slay, and be +Slain, as in mist where none may see +If aught abide or fall or flee, + Drew back a little and laid him down, +Dying: but Balen stood, and said, +As one between the quick and dead +Might stand and speak, “What good knight’s head + Hath won this mortal crown? + +“What knight art thou? for never I +Who now beside thee dead shall die +Found yet the knight afar or nigh +That matched me.” Then his brother’s eye + Flashed pride and love; he spake and smiled +And felt in death life’s quickening flame, +And answered: “Balan is my name, +The good knight Balen’s brother; fame + Calls and miscalls him wild.” + +The cry from Balen’s lips that sprang +Sprang sharper than his sword’s stroke rang. +More keen than death’s or memory’s fang, +Through sense and soul the shuddering pang + Shivered: and scarce he had cried, “Alas +That ever I should see this day,” +When sorrow swooned from him away +As blindly back he fell, and lay + Where sleep lets anguish pass. + +But Balan rose on hands and knees +And crawled by childlike dim degrees +Up toward his brother, as a breeze +Creeps wingless over sluggard seas + When all the wind’s heart fails it: so +Beneath their mother’s eyes had he, +A babe that laughed with joy to be, +Made toward him standing by her knee + For love’s sake long ago. + +Then, gathering strength up for a space, +From off his brother’s dying face +With dying hands that wrought apace +While death and life would grant them grace + He loosed his helm and knew not him, +So scored with blood it was, and hewn +Athwart with darkening wounds: but soon +Life strove and shuddered through the swoon + Wherein its light lay dim. + +And sorrow set these chained words free: +“O Balan, O my brother! me +Thou hast slain, and I, my brother, thee +And now far hence, on shore and sea, + Shall all the wide world speak of us.” +“Alas,” said Balan, “that I might +Not know you, seeing two swords were dight +About you; now the unanswering sight + Hath here found answer thus. + +“Because you bore another shield +Than yours, that even ere youth could wield +Like arms with manhood’s tried and steeled +Shone as my star of battle-field, + I deemed it surely might not be +My brother.” Then his brother spake +Fiercely: “Would God, for thy sole sake, +I had my life again, to take + Revenge for only thee! + +“For all this deadly work was wrought +Of one false knight’s false word and thought, +Whose mortal craft and counsel caught +And snared my faith who doubted nought, + And made me put my shield away. +Ah, might I live, I would destroy +That castle for its customs: joy +There makes of grief a deadly toy, + And death makes night of day.” + +“Well done were that, if aught were done +Well ever here beneath the sun,” +Said Balan: “better work were none: +For hither since I came and won + A woful honour born of death, +When here my hap it was to slay +A knight who kept this island way, +I might not pass by night or day + Hence, as this token saith. + +“No more shouldst thou, for all the might +Of heart and hand that seals thee knight +Most noble of all that see the light, +Brother, hadst thou but slain in fight + Me, and arisen unscathed and whole, +As would to God thou hadst risen! though here +Light is as darkness, hope as fear, +And love as hate: and none draws near + Save toward a mortal goal.” + +Then, fair as any poison-flower +Whose blossom blights the withering bower +Whereon its blasting breath has power, +Forth fared the lady of the tower + With many a lady and many a knight, +And came across the water-way +Even where on death’s dim border lay +Those brethren sent of her to slay + And die in kindless fight. + +And all those hard light hearts were swayed +With pity passing like a shade +That stays not, and may be not stayed, +To hear the mutual moan they made, + Each to behold his brother die, +Saying, “Both we came out of one tomb, +One star-crossed mother’s woful womb, +And so within one grave-pit’s gloom + Untimely shall we lie.” + +And Balan prayed, as God should bless +That lady for her gentleness, +That where the battle’s mortal stress +Had made for them perforce to press + The bed whence never man may rise +They twain, free now from hopes and fears, +Might sleep; and she, as one that hears, +Bowed her bright head: and very tears + Fell from her cold fierce eyes. + +Then Balen prayed her send a priest +To housel them, that ere they ceased +The hansel of the heavenly feast +That fills with light from the answering east + The sunset of the life of man +Might bless them, and their lips be kissed +With death’s requickening eucharist, +And death’s and life’s dim sunlit mist + Pass as a stream that ran. + +And so their dying rites were done: +And Balen, seeing the death-struck sun +Sink, spake as he whose goal is won: +“Now, when our trophied tomb is one, + And over us our tale is writ, +How two that loved each other, two +Born and begotten brethren, slew +Each other, none that reads anew + Shall choose but weep for it. + +“And no good knight and no good man +Whose eye shall ever come to scan +The record of the imperious ban +That made our life so sad a span + Shall read or hear, who shall not pray +For us for ever.” Then anon +Died Balan; but the sun was gone, +And deep the stars of midnight shone, + Ere Balen passed away. + +And there low lying, as hour on hour +Fled, all his life in all its flower +Came back as in a sunlit shower +Of dreams, when sweet-souled sleep has power + On life less sweet and glad to be. +He drank the draught of life’s first wine +Again: he saw the moorland shine, +The rioting rapids of the Tyne, + The woods, the cliffs, the sea. + +The joy that lives at heart and home, +The joy to rest, the joy to roam, +The joy of crags and scaurs he clomb, +The rapture of the encountering foam + Embraced and breasted of the boy, +The first good steed his knees bestrode, +The first wild sound of songs that flowed +Through ears that thrilled and heart that glowed, + Fulfilled his death with joy. + +So, dying not as a coward that dies +And dares not look in death’s dim eyes +Straight as the stars on seas and skies +Whence moon and sun recoil and rise, + He looked on life and death, and slept. +And there with morning Merlin came, +And on the tomb that told their fame +He wrote by Balan’s Balen’s name, + And gazed thereon, and wept. + +For all his heart within him yearned +With pity like as fire that burned. +The fate his fateful eye discerned +Far off now dimmed it, ere he turned + His face toward Camelot, to tell +Arthur of all the storms that woke +Round Balen, and the dolorous stroke, +And how that last blind battle broke + The consummated spell. + +“Alas,” King Arthur said, “this day +I have heard the worst that woe might say: +For in this world that wanes away +I know not two such knights as they.” + This is the tale that memory writes +Of men whose names like stars shall stand, +Balen and Balan, sure of hand, +Two brethren of Northumberland, + In life and death good knights. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF BALEN*** + + +******* This file should be named 2136-0.txt or 2136-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/3/2136 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Tale of Balen + + +Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne + + + +Release Date: December 24, 2008 [eBook #2136] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF BALEN*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1896 Chatto & Windus edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">printed +by</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">spottiswoode and co.</span>, <span +class="smcap">new-street square</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">london</span></p> +<h1>THE TALE OF BALEN</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON<br /> +CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY<br /> +1896</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Copyright in the United States, +1896, by <span class="smcap">Charles Scribner’s +Sons</span>.</p> +<h2>DEDICATION</h2> +<h3>TO MY MOTHER</h3> +<p>Love that holds life and death in fee,<br /> +Deep as the clear unsounded sea<br /> +And sweet as life or death can be,<br /> +Lays here my hope, my heart, and me<br /> +Before you, silent, in a song.<br /> +Since the old wild tale, made new, found grace,<br /> +When half sung through, before your face,<br /> +It needs must live a springtide space,<br /> +While April suns grow strong.</p> +<p><i>March</i> 24, 1896.</p> +<h2>THE TALE OF BALEN</h2> +<h3>I</h3> +<p>In hawthorn-time the heart grows light,<br /> +The world is sweet in sound and sight,<br /> +Glad thoughts and birds take flower and flight,<br /> +The heather kindles toward the light,<br /> + The whin is frankincense and flame.<br /> +And be it for strife or be it for love<br /> +The falcon quickens as the dove<br /> +When earth is touched from heaven above<br /> + With joy that knows no name.</p> +<p>And glad in spirit and sad in soul<br /> +With dream and doubt of days that roll<br /> +As waves that race and find no goal<br /> +Rode on by bush and brake and bole<br /> + A northern child of earth and sea.<br /> +The pride of life before him lay<br /> +Radiant: the heavens of night and day<br /> +Shone less than shone before his way<br /> + His ways and days to be.</p> +<p>And all his life of blood and breath<br /> +Sang out within him: time and death<br /> +Were even as words a dreamer saith<br /> +When sleep within him slackeneth,<br /> + And light and life and spring were one.<br /> +The steed between his knees that sprang,<br /> +The moors and woods that shone and sang,<br /> +The hours where through the spring’s breath rang,<br /> + Seemed ageless as the sun.</p> +<p>But alway through the bounteous bloom<br /> +That earth gives thanks if heaven illume<br /> +His soul forefelt a shadow of doom,<br /> +His heart foreknew a gloomier gloom<br /> + Than closes all men’s equal ways,<br /> +Albeit the spirit of life’s light spring<br /> +With pride of heart upheld him, king<br /> +And lord of hours like snakes that sting<br /> + And nights that darken days.</p> +<p>And as the strong spring round him grew<br /> +Stronger, and all blithe winds that blew<br /> +Blither, and flowers that flowered anew<br /> +More glad of sun and air and dew,<br /> + The shadow lightened on his soul<br /> +And brightened into death and died<br /> +Like winter, as the bloom waxed wide<br /> +From woodside on to riverside<br /> + And southward goal to goal.</p> +<p>Along the wandering ways of Tyne,<br /> +By beech and birch and thorn that shine<br /> +And laugh when life’s requickening wine<br /> +Makes night and noon and dawn divine<br /> + And stirs in all the veins of spring,<br /> +And past the brightening banks of Tees,<br /> +He rode as one that breathes and sees<br /> +A sun more blithe, a merrier breeze,<br /> + A life that hails him king.</p> +<p>And down the softening south that knows<br /> +No more how glad the heather glows,<br /> +Nor how, when winter’s clarion blows<br /> +Across the bright Northumbrian snows,<br /> + Sea-mists from east and westward meet,<br /> +Past Avon senseless yet of song<br /> +And Thames that bore but swans in throng<br /> +He rode elate in heart and strong<br /> + In trust of days as sweet.</p> +<p>So came he through to Camelot,<br /> +Glad, though for shame his heart waxed hot,<br /> +For hope within it withered not<br /> +To see the shaft it dreamed of shot<br /> + Fair toward the glimmering goal of fame,<br /> +And all King Arthur’s knightliest there<br /> +Approved him knightly, swift to dare<br /> +And keen to bid their records bear<br /> + Sir Balen’s northern name.</p> +<p>Sir Balen of Northumberland<br /> +Gat grace before the king to stand<br /> +High as his heart was, and his hand<br /> +Wrought honour toward the strange north strand<br /> + That sent him south so goodly a knight.<br /> +And envy, sick with sense of sin,<br /> +Began as poisonous herbs begin<br /> +To work in base men’s blood, akin<br /> + To men’s of nobler might.</p> +<p>And even so fell it that his doom,<br /> +For all his bright life’s kindling bloom<br /> +And light that took no thought for gloom,<br /> +Fell as a breath from the opening tomb<br /> + Full on him ere he wist or thought.<br /> +For once a churl of royal seed,<br /> +King Arthur’s kinsman, faint in deed<br /> +And loud in word that knew not heed,<br /> + Spake shame where shame was nought.</p> +<p>“What doth one here in Camelot<br /> +Whose birth was northward? Wot we not<br /> +As all his brethren borderers wot<br /> +How blind of heart, how keen and hot,<br /> + The wild north lives and hates the south?<br /> +Men of the narrowing march that knows<br /> +Nought save the strength of storms and snows,<br /> +What would these carles where knighthood blows<br /> + A trump of kinglike mouth?”</p> +<p>Swift from his place leapt Balen, smote<br /> +The liar across his face, and wrote<br /> +His wrath in blood upon the bloat<br /> +Brute cheek that challenged shame for note<br /> + How vile a king-born knave might be.<br /> +Forth sprang their swords, and Balen slew<br /> +The knave ere well one witness knew<br /> +Of all that round them stood or drew<br /> + What sight was there to see.</p> +<p>Then spake the great king’s wrathful will<br /> +A doom for six dark months to fill<br /> +Wherein close prison held him, still<br /> +And steadfast-souled for good or ill.<br /> + But when those weary days lay dead<br /> +His lordliest knights and barons spake<br /> +Before the king for Balen’s sake<br /> +Good speech and wise, of force to break<br /> + The bonds that bowed his head.</p> +<h3>II</h3> +<p>In linden-time the heart is high<br /> +For pride of summer passing by<br /> +With lordly laughter in her eye;<br /> +A heavy splendour in the sky<br /> + Uplifts and bows it down again.<br /> +The spring had waned from wood and wold<br /> +Since Balen left his prison hold<br /> +And lowlier-hearted than of old<br /> + Beheld it wax and wane.</p> +<p>Though humble heart and poor array<br /> +Kept not from spirit and sense away<br /> +Their noble nature, nor could slay<br /> +The pride they bade but pause and stay<br /> + Till time should bring its trust to flower,<br /> +Yet even for noble shame’s sake, born<br /> +Of hope that smiled on hate and scorn,<br /> +He held him still as earth ere morn<br /> + Ring forth her rapturous hour.</p> +<p>But even as earth when dawn takes flight<br /> +And beats her wings of dewy light<br /> +Full in the faltering face of night,<br /> +His soul awoke to claim by right<br /> + The life and death of deed and doom,<br /> +When once before the king there came<br /> +A maiden clad with grief and shame<br /> +And anguish burning her like flame<br /> + That feeds on flowers in bloom.</p> +<p>Beneath a royal mantle, fair<br /> +With goodly work of lustrous vair,<br /> +Girt fast against her side she bare<br /> +A sword whose weight bade all men there<br /> + Quail to behold her face again.<br /> +Save of a passing perfect knight<br /> +Not great alone in force and fight<br /> +It might not be for any might<br /> + Drawn forth, and end her pain.</p> +<p>So said she: then King Arthur spake:<br /> +“Albeit indeed I dare not take<br /> +Such praise on me, for knighthood’s sake<br /> +And love of ladies will I make<br /> + Assay if better none may be.”<br /> +By girdle and by sheath he caught<br /> +The sheathed and girded sword, and wrought<br /> +With strength whose force availed him nought<br /> + To save and set her free.</p> +<p>Again she spake: “No need to set<br /> +The might that man has matched not yet<br /> +Against it: he whose hand shall get<br /> +Grace to release the bonds that fret<br /> + My bosom and my girdlestead<br /> +With little strain of strength or strife<br /> +Shall bring me as from death to life<br /> +And win to sister or to wife<br /> + Fame that outlives men dead.”</p> +<p>Then bade the king his knights assay<br /> +This mystery that before him lay<br /> +And mocked his might of manhood. “Nay,”<br /> +Quoth she, “the man that takes away<br /> + This burden laid on me must be<br /> +A knight of record clean and fair<br /> +As sunlight and the flowerful air,<br /> +By sire and mother born to bear<br /> + A name to shame not me.”</p> +<p>Then forth strode Launcelot, and laid<br /> +The mighty-moulded hand that made<br /> +Strong knights reel back like birds affrayed<br /> +By storm that smote them as they strayed<br /> + Against the hilt that yielded not.<br /> +Then Tristram, bright and sad and kind<br /> +As one that bore in noble mind<br /> +Love that made light as darkness blind,<br /> + Fared even as Launcelot.</p> +<p>Then Lamoracke, with hardier cheer,<br /> +As one that held all hope and fear<br /> +Wherethrough the spirit of man may steer<br /> +In life and death less dark or dear,<br /> + Laid hand thereon, and fared as they.<br /> +With half a smile his hand he drew<br /> +Back from the spell-bound thing, and threw<br /> +With half a glance his heart anew<br /> + Toward no such blameless may.</p> +<p>Between Iseult and Guenevere<br /> +Sat one of name as high to hear,<br /> +But darklier doomed than they whose cheer<br /> +Foreshowed not yet the deadlier year<br /> + That bids the queenliest head bow down,<br /> +The queen Morgause of Orkney: they<br /> +With scarce a flash of the eye could say<br /> +The very word of dawn, when day<br /> + Gives earth and heaven their crown.</p> +<p>But bright and dark as night or noon<br /> +And lowering as a storm-flushed moon<br /> +When clouds and thwarting winds distune<br /> +The music of the midnight, soon<br /> + To die from darkening star to star<br /> +And leave a silence in the skies<br /> +That yearns till dawn find voice and rise,<br /> +Shone strange as fate Morgause, with eyes<br /> + That dwelt on days afar.</p> +<p>A glance that shot on Lamoracke<br /> +As from a storm-cloud bright and black.<br /> +Fire swift and blind as death’s own track<br /> +Turned fleet as flame on Arthur back<br /> + From him whose hand forsook the hilt:<br /> +And one in blood and one in sin<br /> +Their hearts caught fire of pain within<br /> +And knew no goal for them to win<br /> + But death that guerdons guilt.</p> +<p>Then Gawain, sweet of soul and gay<br /> +As April ere he dreams of May,<br /> +Strove, and prevailed not: then Sir Kay,<br /> +The snake-souled envier, vile as they<br /> + That fawn and foam and lurk and lie,<br /> +Sire of the bastard band whose brood<br /> +Was alway found at servile feud<br /> +With honour, faint and false and lewd,<br /> + Scarce grasped and put it by.</p> +<p>Then wept for woe the damsel bound<br /> +With iron and with anguish round,<br /> +That none to help her grief was found<br /> +Or loose the inextricably inwound<br /> + Grim curse that girt her life with grief<br /> +And made a burden of her breath,<br /> +Harsh as the bitterness of death.<br /> +Then spake the king as one that saith<br /> + Words bitterer even than brief.</p> +<p>“Methought the wide round world could bring<br /> +Before the face of queen or king<br /> +No knights more fit for fame to sing<br /> +Than fill this full Round Table’s ring<br /> + With honour higher than pride of place:<br /> +But now my heart is wrung to know,<br /> +Damsel, that none whom fame can show<br /> +Finds grace to heal or help thy woe:<br /> + God gives them not the grace.”</p> +<p>Then from the lowliest place thereby,<br /> +With heart-enkindled cheek and eye<br /> +Most like the star and kindling sky<br /> +That say the sundawn’s hour is high<br /> + When rapture trembles through the sea,<br /> +Strode Balen in his poor array<br /> +Forth, and took heart of grace to pray<br /> +The damsel suffer even him to assay<br /> + His power to set her free.</p> +<p>Nay, how should he avail, she said,<br /> +Averse with scorn-averted head,<br /> +Where these availed not? none had sped<br /> +Of all these mightier men that led<br /> + The lists wherein he might not ride,<br /> +And how should less men speed? But he,<br /> +With lordlier pride of courtesy,<br /> +Put forth his hand and set her free<br /> + From pain and humbled pride.</p> +<p>But on the sword he gazed elate<br /> +With hope set higher than fear or fate,<br /> +Or doubt of darkling days in wait;<br /> +And when her thankful praise waxed great<br /> + And craved of him the sword again,<br /> +He would not give it. “Nay, for mine<br /> +It is till force may make it thine.”<br /> +A smile that shone as death may shine<br /> + Spake toward him bale and bane.</p> +<p>Strange lightning flickered from her eyes.<br /> +“Gentle and good in knightliest guise<br /> +And meet for quest of strange emprise<br /> +Thou hast here approved thee: yet not wise<br /> + To keep the sword from me, I wis.<br /> +For with it thou shalt surely slay<br /> +Of all that look upon the day<br /> +The man best loved of thee, and lay<br /> + Thine own life down for his.”</p> +<p>“What chance God sends, that chance I take,”<br /> +He said. Then soft and still she spake;<br /> +“I would but for thine only sake<br /> +Have back the sword of thee, and break<br /> + The links of doom that bind thee round.<br /> +But seeing thou wilt not have it so,<br /> +My heart for thine is wrung with woe.”<br /> +“God’s will,” quoth he, “it is, we +know,<br /> + Wherewith our lives are bound.”</p> +<p>“Repent it must thou soon,” she said,<br /> +“Who wouldst not hear the rede I read<br /> +For thine and not for my sake, sped<br /> +In vain as waters heavenward shed<br /> + From springs that falter and depart<br /> +Earthward. God bids not thee believe<br /> +Truth, and the web thy life must weave<br /> +For even this sword to close and cleave<br /> + Hangs heavy round my heart.”</p> +<p>So passed she mourning forth. But he,<br /> +With heart of springing hope set free<br /> +As birds that breast and brave the sea,<br /> +Bade horse and arms and armour be<br /> + Made straightway ready toward the fray.<br /> +Nor even might Arthur’s royal prayer<br /> +Withhold him, but with frank and fair<br /> +Thanksgiving and leave-taking there<br /> + He turned him thence away.</p> +<h3>III</h3> +<p>As the east wind, when the morning’s breast<br /> +Gleams like a bird’s that leaves the nest,<br /> +A fledgeling halcyon’s bound on quest,<br /> +Drives wave on wave on wave to west<br /> + Till all the sea be life and light,<br /> +So time’s mute breath, that brings to bloom<br /> +All flowers that strew the dead spring’s tomb,<br /> +Drives day on day on day to doom<br /> + Till all man’s day be night.</p> +<p>Brief as the breaking of a wave<br /> +That hurls on man his thunderous grave<br /> +Ere fear find breath to cry or crave<br /> +Life that no chance may spare or save,<br /> + The light of joy and glory shone<br /> +Even as in dreams where death seems dead<br /> +Round Balen’s hope-exalted head,<br /> +Shone, passed, and lightened as it fled<br /> + The shadow of doom thereon.</p> +<p>For as he bound him thence to fare,<br /> +Before the stately presence there<br /> +A lady like a windflower fair,<br /> +Girt on with raiment strange and rare<br /> + That rippled whispering round her, came.<br /> +Her clear cold eyes, all glassy grey,<br /> +Seemed lit not with the light of day<br /> +But touched with gleams that waned away<br /> + Of quelled and fading flame.</p> +<p>Before the king she bowed and spake:<br /> +“King, for thine old faith’s plighted sake<br /> +To me the lady of the lake,<br /> +I come in trust of thee to take<br /> + The guerdon of the gift I gave,<br /> +Thy sword Excalibur.” And he<br /> +Made answer: “Be it whate’er it be,<br /> +If mine to give, I give it thee,<br /> + Nor need is thine to crave.”</p> +<p>As when a gleam of wicked light<br /> +Turns half a low-lying water bright<br /> +That moans beneath the shivering night<br /> +With sense of evil sound and sight<br /> + And whispering witchcraft’s bated breath,<br +/> +Her wan face quickened as she said:<br /> +“This knight that won the sword—his head<br /> +I crave or hers that brought it. Dead,<br /> + Let these be one in death.”</p> +<p>“Not with mine honour this may be;<br /> +Ask all save this thou wilt,” quoth he,<br /> +“And have thy full desire.” But she<br /> +Made answer: “Nought will I of thee,<br /> + Nought if not this.” Then Balen +turned,<br /> +And saw the sorceress hard beside<br /> +By whose fell craft his mother died:<br /> +Three years he had sought her, and here espied<br /> + His heart against her yearned.</p> +<p>“Ill be thou met,” he said, “whose ire<br /> +Would slake with blood thy soul’s desire:<br /> +By thee my mother died in fire;<br /> +Die thou by me a death less dire.”<br /> + Sharp flashed his sword forth, fleet as flame,<br /> +And shore away her sorcerous head.<br /> +“Alas for shame,” the high king said,<br /> +“That one found once my friend lies dead;<br /> + Alas for all our shame!</p> +<p>“Thou shouldst have here forborne her; yea,<br /> +Were all the wrongs that bid men slay<br /> +Thine, heaped too high for wrath to weigh,<br /> +Not here before my face today<br /> + Was thine the right to wreak thy wrong.”<br /> +Still stood he then as one that found<br /> +His rose of hope by storm discrowned,<br /> +And all the joy that girt him round<br /> + Brief as a broken song.</p> +<p>Yet ere he passed he turned and spake:<br /> +“King, only for thy nobler sake<br /> +Than aught of power man’s power may take<br /> +Or pride of place that pride may break<br /> + I bid the lordlier man in thee,<br /> +That lives within the king, give ear.<br /> +This justice done before thee here<br /> +On one that hell’s own heart holds dear,<br /> + Needs might not this but be.</p> +<p>“Albeit, for all that pride would prove,<br /> +My heart be wrung to lose thy love,<br /> +It yet repents me not hereof:<br /> +So many an eagle and many a dove,<br /> + So many a knight, so many a may,<br /> +This water-snake of poisonous tongue<br /> +To death by words and wiles hath stung,<br /> +That her their slayer, from hell’s lake sprung,<br /> + I did not ill to slay.”</p> +<p>“Yea,” said the king, “too high of heart<br +/> +To stand before a king thou art;<br /> +Yet irks it me to bid thee part<br /> +And take thy penance for thy part,<br /> + That God may put upon thy pride.”<br /> +Then Balen took the severed head<br /> +And toward his hostry turned and sped<br /> +As one that knew not quick from dead<br /> + Nor good from evil tide.</p> +<p>He bade his squire before him stand<br /> +And take that sanguine spoil in hand<br /> +And bear it far by shore and strand<br /> +Till all in glad Northumberland<br /> + That loved him, seeing it, all might know<br /> +His deadliest foe was dead, and hear<br /> +How free from prison as from fear<br /> +He dwelt in trust of the answering year<br /> + To bring him weal for woe.</p> +<p>“And tell them, now I take my way<br /> +To meet in battle, if I may,<br /> +King Ryons of North Wales, and slay<br /> +That king of kernes whose fiery sway<br /> + Doth all the marches dire despite<br /> +That serve King Arthur: so shall he<br /> +Again be gracious lord to me,<br /> +And I that leave thee meet with thee<br /> + Once more in Arthur’s sight.”</p> +<p>So spake he ere they parted, nor<br /> +Took shame or fear to counsellor,<br /> +As one whom none laid ambush for;<br /> +And wist not how Sir Launceor,<br /> + The wild king’s son of Ireland, hot<br /> +And high in wrath to know that one<br /> +Stood higher in fame before the sun,<br /> +Even Balen, since the sword was won,<br /> + Drew nigh from Camelot.</p> +<p>For thence, in heat of hate and pride,<br /> +As one that man might bid not bide,<br /> +He craved the high king’s grace to ride<br /> +On quest of Balen far and wide<br /> + And wreak the wrong his wrath had wrought.<br /> +“Yea,” Arthur said, “for such despite<br /> +Was done me never in my sight<br /> +As this thine hand shall now requite<br /> + If trust avail us aught.”</p> +<p>But ere he passed, in eager mood<br /> +To feed his hate with bitter food,<br /> +Before the king’s face Merlin stood<br /> +And heard his tale of ill and good,<br /> + Of Balen, and the sword achieved,<br /> +And whence it smote as heaven’s red ire<br /> +That direful dame of doom as dire;<br /> +And how the king’s wrath turned to fire<br /> + The grief wherewith he grieved.</p> +<p>And darkening as he gave it ear,<br /> +The still face of the sacred seer<br /> +Waxed wan with wrath and not with fear,<br /> +And ever changed its cloudier cheer<br /> + Till all his face was very night.<br /> +“This damosel that brought the sword,”<br /> +He said, “before the king my lord,<br /> +And all these knights about his board,<br /> + Hath done them all despite.</p> +<p>“The falsest damosel she is<br /> +That works men ill on earth, I wis,<br /> +And all her mind is toward but this,<br /> +To kill as with a lying kiss<br /> + Truth, and the life of noble trust.<br /> +A brother hath she,—see but now<br /> +The flame of shame that brands her brow!—<br /> +A true man, pure as faith’s own vow,<br /> + Whose honour knows not rust.</p> +<p>“This good knight found within her bower<br /> +A felon and her paramour,<br /> +And slew him in his shameful hour,<br /> +As right gave might and righteous power<br /> + To hands that wreaked so foul a wrong.<br /> +Then, for the hate her heart put on,<br /> +She sought by ways where death had gone<br /> +The lady Lyle of Avalon,<br /> + Whose crafts are strange and strong.</p> +<p>“The sorceress, one with her in thought,<br /> +Gave her that sword of magic, wrought<br /> +By charms whereof sweet heaven sees nought,<br /> +That hither girt on her she brought<br /> + To be by doom her brother’s bane.<br /> +And grief it is to think how he<br /> +That won it, being of heart so free<br /> +And perfect found in chivalry,<br /> + Shall by that sword lie slain.</p> +<p>Great pity it is and strange despite<br /> +That one whose eyes are stars to light<br /> +Honour, and shine as heaven’s own height,<br /> +Should perish, being the goodliest knight<br /> + That even the all-glorious north has borne.<br /> +Nor shall my lord the king behold<br /> +A lordlier friend of mightier mould<br /> +Than Balen, though his tale be told<br /> + Ere noon fulfil his morn.”</p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<p>As morning hears before it run<br /> +The music of the mounting sun,<br /> +And laughs to watch his trophies won<br /> +From darkness, and her hosts undone,<br /> + And all the night become a breath,<br /> +Nor dreams that fear should hear and flee<br /> +The summer menace of the sea,<br /> +So hears our hope what life may be,<br /> + And knows it not for death.</p> +<p>Each day that slays its hours and dies<br /> +Weeps, laughs, and lightens on our eyes,<br /> +And sees and hears not: smiles and sighs<br /> +As flowers ephemeral fall and rise<br /> + About its birth, about its way,<br /> +And pass as love and sorrow pass,<br /> +As shadows flashing down a glass,<br /> +As dew-flowers blowing in flowerless grass,<br /> + As hope from yesterday.</p> +<p>The blossom of the sunny dew<br /> +That now the stronger sun strikes through<br /> +Fades off the blade whereon it blew<br /> +No fleetlier than the flowers that grew<br /> + On hope’s green stem in life’s fierce +light.<br /> +Nor might the glory soon to sit<br /> +Awhile on Balen’s crest alit<br /> +Outshine the shadow of doom on it<br /> + Or stay death’s wings from flight.</p> +<p>Dawn on a golden moorland side<br /> +By holt and heath saw Balen ride<br /> +And Launceor after, pricked with pride<br /> +And stung with spurring envy: wide<br /> + And far he had ridden athwart strange lands<br /> +And sought amiss the man he found<br /> +And cried on, till the stormy sound<br /> +Rang as a rallying trumpet round<br /> + That fires men’s hearts and hands.</p> +<p>Abide he bade him: nor was need<br /> +To bid when Balen wheeled his steed<br /> +Fiercely, less fain by word than deed<br /> +To bid his envier evil speed,<br /> + And cried, “What wilt thou with +me?” Loud<br /> +Rang Launceor’s vehement answer: “Knight,<br /> +To avenge on thee the dire despite<br /> +Thou hast done us all in Arthur’s sight<br /> + I stand toward Arthur vowed.”</p> +<p>“Ay?” Balen said: “albeit I see<br /> +I needs must deal in strife with thee,<br /> +Light is the wyte thou layest on me;<br /> +For her I slew and sinned not, she<br /> + Was dire in all men’s eyes as death,<br /> +Or none were lother found than I<br /> +By me to bid a woman die:<br /> +As lief were loyal men to lie,<br /> + Or scorn what honour saith.”</p> +<p>As the arched wave’s weight against the reef<br /> +Hurls, and is hurled back like a leaf<br /> +Storm-shrivelled, and its rage of grief<br /> +Speaks all the loud broad sea in brief,<br /> + And quells the hearkening hearts of men,<br /> +Or as the crash of overfalls<br /> +Down under blue smooth water brawls<br /> +Like jarring steel on ruining walls,<br /> + So rang their meeting then.</p> +<p>As wave on wave shocks, and confounds<br /> +The bounding bulk whereon it bounds<br /> +And breaks and shattering seaward sounds<br /> +As crying of the old sea’s wolves and hounds<br /> + That moan and ravin and rage and wail,<br /> +So steed on steed encountering sheer<br /> +Shocked, and the strength of Launceor’s spear<br /> +Shivered on Balen’s shield, and fear<br /> + Bade hope within him quail.</p> +<p>But Balen’s spear through Launceor’s shield<br /> +Clove as a ploughshare cleaves the field<br /> +And pierced the hauberk triple-steeled,<br /> +That horse with horseman stricken reeled,<br /> + And as a storm-breached rock falls, fell.<br /> +And Balen turned his horse again<br /> +And wist not yet his foe lay slain,<br /> +And saw him dead that sought his bane<br /> + And wrought and fared not well.</p> +<p>Suddenly, while he gazed and stood,<br /> +And mused in many-minded mood<br /> +If life or death were evil or good,<br /> +Forth of a covert of a wood<br /> + That skirted half the moorland lea<br /> +Fast rode a maiden flower-like white<br /> +Full toward that fair wild place of fight,<br /> +Anhungered of the woful sight<br /> + God gave her there to see.</p> +<p>And seeing the man there fallen and dead,<br /> +She cried against the sun that shed<br /> +Light on the living world, and said,<br /> +“O Balen, slayer whose hand is red,<br /> + Two bodies and one heart thou hast slain,<br /> +Two hearts within one body: aye,<br /> +Two souls thou hast lost; by thee they die,<br /> +Cast out of sight of earth and sky<br /> + And all that made them fain.”</p> +<p>And from the dead his sword she caught,<br /> +And fell in trance that wist of nought,<br /> +Swooning: but softly Balen sought<br /> +To win from her the sword she thought<br /> + To die on, dying by Launceor’s side.<br /> +Again her wakening wail outbroke<br /> +As wildly, sword in hand, she woke<br /> +And struck one swift and bitter stroke<br /> + That healed her, and she died.</p> +<p>And sorrowing for their strange love’s sake<br /> +Rode Balen forth by lawn and lake,<br /> +By moor and moss and briar and brake,<br /> +And in his heart their sorrow spake<br /> + Whose lips were dumb as death, and said<br /> +Mute words of presage blind and vain<br /> +As rain-stars blurred and marred by rain<br /> +To wanderers on a moonless main<br /> + Where night and day seem dead.</p> +<p>Then toward a sunbright wildwood side<br /> +He looked and saw beneath it ride<br /> +A knight whose arms afar espied<br /> +By note of name and proof of pride<br /> + Bare witness of his brother born,<br /> +His brother Balan, hard at hand,<br /> +Twin flower of bright Northumberland,<br /> +Twin sea-bird of their loud sea-strand,<br /> + Twin song-bird of their morn.</p> +<p>Ah then from Balen passed away<br /> +All dread of night, all doubt of day,<br /> +All care what life or death might say,<br /> +All thought of all worse months than May:<br /> + Only the might of joy in love<br /> +Brake forth within him as a fire,<br /> +And deep delight in deep desire<br /> +Of far-flown days whose full-souled quire<br /> + Rang round from the air above.</p> +<p>From choral earth and quiring air<br /> +Rang memories winged like songs that bear<br /> +Sweet gifts for spirit and sense to share:<br /> +For no man’s life knows love more fair<br /> + And fruitful of memorial things<br /> +Than this the deep dear love that breaks<br /> +With sense of life on life, and makes<br /> +The sundawn sunnier as it wakes<br /> + Where morning round it rings.</p> +<p>“O brother, O my brother!” cried<br /> +Each upon each, and cast aside<br /> +Their helms unbraced that might not hide<br /> +From sight of memory single-eyed<br /> + The likeness graven of face and face,<br /> +And kissed and wept upon each other<br /> +For joy and pity of either brother,<br /> +And love engrafted by sire and mother,<br /> + God’s natural gift of grace.</p> +<p>And each with each took counsel meet<br /> +For comfort, making sorrow sweet,<br /> +And grief a goodly thing to greet:<br /> +And word from word leapt light and fleet<br /> + Till all the venturous tale was told,<br /> +And how in Balen’s hope it lay<br /> +To meet the wild Welsh king and slay,<br /> +And win from Arthur back for pay<br /> + The grace he gave of old.</p> +<p>“And thither will not thou with me<br /> +And win as great a grace for thee?”<br /> +“That will I well,” quoth Balan: “we<br /> +Will cleave together, bound and free,<br /> + As brethren should, being twain and one.”<br +/> +But ere they parted thence there came<br /> +A creature withered as with flame,<br /> +A dwarf mismade in nature’s shame,<br /> + Between them and the sun.</p> +<p>And riding fleet as fire may glide<br /> +He found the dead lie side by side,<br /> +And wailed and rent his hair and cried,<br /> +“Who hath done this deed?” And Balen eyed<br /> + The strange thing loathfully, and said,<br /> +“The knight I slew, who found him fain<br /> +And keen to slay me: seeing him slain,<br /> +The maid I sought to save in vain,<br /> + Self-stricken, here lies dead.</p> +<p>“Sore grief was mine to see her die,<br /> +And for her true faith’s sake shall I<br /> +Love, and with love of heart more high,<br /> +All women better till I die.”<br /> + “Alas,” the dwarf said, “ill for +thee<br /> +In evil hour this deed was done:<br /> +For now the quest shall be begun<br /> +Against thee, from the dawning sun<br /> + Even to the sunset sea.</p> +<p>“From shore to mountain, dawn to night,<br /> +The kinsfolk of this great dead knight<br /> +Will chase thee to thy death.” A light<br /> +Of swift blithe scorn flashed answer bright<br /> + As fire from Balen’s eye. “For +that,<br /> +Small fear shall fret my heart,” quoth he:<br /> +“But that my lord the king should be<br /> +For this dead man’s sake wroth with me,<br /> + Weep might it well thereat.”</p> +<p>Then murmuring passed the dwarf away,<br /> +And toward the knights in fair array<br /> +Came riding eastward up the way<br /> +From where the flower-soft lowlands lay<br /> + A king whose name the sweet south-west<br /> +Held high in honour, and the land<br /> +That bowed beneath his gentle hand<br /> +Wore on its wild bright northern strand<br /> + Tintagel for a crest.</p> +<p>And Balen hailed with homage due<br /> +King Mark of Cornwall, when he knew<br /> +The pennon that before him flew:<br /> +And for those lovers dead and true<br /> + The king made moan to hear their doom;<br /> +And for their sorrow’s sake he sware<br /> +To seek in all the marches there<br /> +The church that man might find most fair<br /> + And build therein their tomb.</p> +<h3>V</h3> +<p>As thought from thought takes wing and flies,<br /> +As month on month with sunlit eyes<br /> +Tramples and triumphs in its rise,<br /> +As wave smites wave to death and dies,<br /> + So chance on hurtling chance like steel<br /> +Strikes, flashes, and is quenched, ere fear<br /> +Can whisper hope, or hope can hear,<br /> +If sorrow or joy be far or near<br /> + For time to hurt or heal.</p> +<p>Swift as a shadow and strange as light<br /> +That cleaves in twain the shadow of night<br /> +Before the wide-winged word takes flight<br /> +That thunder speaks to depth and height<br /> + And quells the quiet hour with sound,<br /> +There came before King Mark and stood<br /> +Between the moorside and the wood<br /> +The man whose word God’s will made good,<br /> + Nor guile was in it found.</p> +<p>And Merlin said to Balen: “Lo,<br /> +Thou hast wrought thyself a grievous woe<br /> +To let this lady die, and know<br /> +Thou mightst have stayed her deadly blow.”<br /> + And Balen answered him and said,<br /> +“Nay, by my truth to faith, not I,<br /> +So fiercely fain she was to die;<br /> +Ere well her sword had flashed on high,<br /> + Self-slain she lay there dead.”</p> +<p>Again and sadly Merlin spake:<br /> +“My heart is wrung for this deed’s sake,<br /> +To know thee therefore doomed to take<br /> +Upon thine hand a curse, and make<br /> + Three kingdoms pine through twelve years’ +change,<br /> +In want and woe: for thou shalt smite<br /> +The man most noble and truest knight<br /> +That looks upon the live world’s light<br /> + A dolorous stroke and strange.</p> +<p>“And not till years shall round their goal<br /> +May this man’s wound thou hast given be whole.”<br /> +And Balen, stricken through the soul<br /> +By dark-winged words of doom and dole,<br /> + Made answer: “If I wist it were<br /> +No lie but sooth thou sayest of me,<br /> +Then even to make a liar of thee<br /> +Would I too slay myself, and see<br /> + How death bids dead men fare.”</p> +<p>And Merlin took his leave and passed<br /> +And was not: and the shadow as fast<br /> +Went with him that his word had cast,<br /> +Too fleet for thought thereof to last:<br /> + And there those brethren bade King Mark<br /> +Farewell: but fain would Mark have known<br /> +The strong knight’s name who had overthrown<br /> +The pride of Launceor, when it shone<br /> + Bright as it now lay dark.</p> +<p>And Balan for his brother spake,<br /> +Saying: “Sir, albeit him list not break<br /> +The seal of secret time, nor shake<br /> +Night off him ere his morning wake,<br /> + By these two swords he is girt withal<br /> +May men that praise him, knights and lords,<br /> +Call him the knight that bears two swords,<br /> +And all the praise his fame accords<br /> + Make answer when they call.”</p> +<p>So parted they toward eventide;<br /> +And tender twilight, heavy-eyed,<br /> +Saw deep down glimmering woodlands ride<br /> +Balen and Balan side by side,<br /> + Till where the leaves grew dense and dim<br /> +Again they spied from far draw near<br /> +The presence of the sacred seer,<br /> +But so disguised and strange of cheer<br /> + That seeing they knew not him.</p> +<p>“Now whither ride ye,” Merlin said,<br /> +“Through shadows that the sun strikes red,<br /> +Ere night be born or day be dead?”<br /> +But they, for doubt half touched with dread,<br /> + Would say not where their goal might lie.<br /> +“And thou,” said Balen, “what art thou,<br /> +To walk with shrouded eye and brow?”<br /> +He said: “Me lists not show thee now<br /> + By name what man am I.”</p> +<p>“Ill seen is this of thee,” said they,<br /> +“That thou art true in word and way<br /> +Nor fain to fear the face of day,<br /> +Who wilt not as a true man say<br /> + The name it shames not him to bear.”<br /> +He answered: “Be it or be it not so,<br /> +Yet why ye ride this way I know,<br /> +To meet King Ryons as a foe,<br /> + And how your hope shall fare.</p> +<p>“Well, if ye hearken toward my rede,<br /> +Ill, if ye hear not, shall ye speed.”<br /> +“Ah, now,” they cried, “thou art ours at +need<br /> +What Merlin saith we are fain to heed.”<br /> + “Great worship shall ye win,” said +he,<br /> +“And look that ye do knightly now,<br /> +For great shall be your need, I trow.”<br /> +And Balen smiled: “By knighthood’s vow,<br /> + The best we may will we.”</p> +<p>Then Merlin bade them turn and take<br /> +Rest, for their good steeds’ weary sake,<br /> +Between the highway and the brake,<br /> +Till starry midnight bade them wake:<br /> + Then “Rise,” he said, “the king is +nigh,<br /> +Who hath stolen from all his host away<br /> +With threescore horse in armed array,<br /> +The goodliest knights that bear his sway<br /> + And hold his kingdom high.</p> +<p>“And twenty ride of them before<br /> +To bear his errand, ere the door<br /> +Turn of the night, sealed fast no more,<br /> +And sundawn bid the stars wax hoar;<br /> + For by the starshine of to-night<br /> +He seeks a leman where she waits<br /> +His coming, dark and swift as fate’s,<br /> +And hearkens toward the unopening gates<br /> + That yield not him to sight.</p> +<p>Then through the glimmering gloom around<br /> +A shadowy sense of light and sound<br /> +Made, ere the proof thereof were found,<br /> +The brave blithe hearts within them bound,<br /> + And “Where,” quoth Balen, “rides +the king?”<br /> +But softer spake the seer: “Abide,<br /> +Till hither toward your spears he ride,<br /> +Where all the narrowing woodland side<br /> + Grows dense with boughs that cling.”</p> +<p>There in that straitening way they met<br /> +The wild Welsh host against them set,<br /> +And smote their strong king down, ere yet<br /> +His hurrying horde of spears might get<br /> + Fierce vantage of them. Then the fight<br /> +Grew great and joyous as it grew,<br /> +For left and right those brethren slew,<br /> +Till all the lawn waxed red with dew<br /> + More deep than dews of night.</p> +<p>And ere the full fierce tale was read<br /> +Full forty lay before them dead,<br /> +And fast the hurtling remnant fled<br /> +And wist not whither fear had led:<br /> + And toward the king they went again,<br /> +And would have slain him: but he bowed<br /> +Before them, crying in fear aloud<br /> +For grace they gave him, seeing the proud<br /> + Wild king brought lowest of men.</p> +<p>And ere the wildwood leaves were stirred<br /> +With song or wing of wakening bird,<br /> +In Camelot was Merlin’s word<br /> +With joy in joyous wonder heard<br /> + That told of Arthur’s bitterest foe<br /> +Diskingdomed and discomfited.<br /> +“By whom?” the high king smiled and said.<br /> +He answered: “Ere the dawn wax red,<br /> + To-morrow bids you know.</p> +<p>“Two knights whose heart and hope are one<br /> +And fain to win your grace have done<br /> +This work whereby if grace be won<br /> +Their hearts shall hail the enkindling sun<br /> + With joy more keen and deep than day.”<br /> +And ere the sundawn drank the dew<br /> +Those brethren with their prisoner drew<br /> +To the outer guard they gave him to<br /> + And passed again away.</p> +<p>And Arthur came as toward his guest<br /> +To greet his foe, and bade him rest<br /> +As one returned from nobler quest<br /> +And welcome from the stormbright west,<br /> + But by what chance he fain would hear.<br /> +“The chance was hard and strange, sir king,”<br /> +Quoth Ryons, bowed in thanksgiving.<br /> +“Who won you?” Arthur said: “the thing<br /> + Is worth a warrior’s ear.”</p> +<p>The wild king flushed with pride and shame,<br /> +Answering: “I know not either name<br /> +Of those that there against us came<br /> +And withered all our strength like flame:<br /> + The knight that bears two swords is one,<br /> +And one his brother: not on earth<br /> +May men meet men of knightlier worth<br /> +Nor mightier born of mortal birth<br /> + That hail the sovereign sun.”</p> +<p>And Arthur said: “I know them not<br /> +But much am I for this, God wet,<br /> +Beholden to them: Launcelot<br /> +Nor Tristram, when the war waxed hot<br /> + Along the marches east and west,<br /> +Wrought ever nobler work than this.”<br /> +“Ah,” Merlin said, “sore pity it is<br /> +And strange mischance of doom, I wis,<br /> + That death should mar their quest.</p> +<p>“Balen, the perfect knight that won<br /> +The sword whose name is malison,<br /> +And made his deed his doom, is one:<br /> +Nor hath his brother Balan done<br /> + Less royal service: not on earth<br /> +Lives there a nobler knight, more strong<br /> +Of soul to win men’s praise in song,<br /> +Albeit the light abide not long<br /> + That lightened round his birth.</p> +<p>“Yea, and of all sad things I know<br /> +The heaviest and the highest in woe<br /> +Is this, the doom whose date brings low<br /> +Too soon in timeless overthrow<br /> + A head so high, a hope so sure.<br /> +The greatest moan for any knight<br /> +That ever won fair fame in fight<br /> +Shall be for Balen, seeing his might<br /> + Must now not long endure.”</p> +<p>“Alas,” King Arthur said, “he hath shown<br +/> +Such love to me-ward that the moan<br /> +Made of him should be mine alone<br /> +Above all other, knowing it known<br /> + I have ill deserved it of him.” +“Nay,”<br /> +Said Merlin, “he shall do for you<br /> +Much more, when time shall be anew,<br /> +Than time hath given him chance to do<br /> + Or hope may think to say.</p> +<p>“But now must be your powers purveyed<br /> +To meet, ere noon of morn be made<br /> +To-morrow, all the host arrayed<br /> +Of this wild foe’s wild brother, laid<br /> + Around against you: see to it well,<br /> +For now I part from you.” And soon,<br /> +When sundawn slew the withering moon,<br /> +Two hosts were met to win the boon<br /> + Whose tale is death’s to tell.</p> +<p>A lordly tale of knights and lords<br /> +For death to tell by count of swords<br /> +When war’s wild harp in all its chords<br /> +Rang royal triumph, and the hordes<br /> + Of hurtling foemen rocked and reeled<br /> +As waves wind-thwarted on the sea,<br /> +Was told of all that there might be,<br /> +Till scarce might battle hear or see<br /> + The fortune of the field.</p> +<p>And many a knight won fame that day<br /> +When even the serpent soul of Kay<br /> +Was kindled toward the fiery play<br /> +As might a lion’s be for prey,<br /> + And won him fame that might not die<br /> +With passing of his rancorous breath<br /> +But clung about his life and death<br /> +As fire that speaks in cloud, and saith<br /> + What strong men hear and fly.</p> +<p>And glorious works were Arthur’s there,<br /> +That lit the battle-darkened air:<br /> +But when they saw before them fare<br /> +Like stars of storm the knight that bare<br /> + Two swords about him girt for fray,<br /> +Balen, and Balan with him, then<br /> +Strong wonder smote the souls of men<br /> +If heaven’s own host or hell’s deep den<br /> + Had sent them forth to slay.</p> +<p>So keen they rode across the fight,<br /> +So sharp they smote to left and right,<br /> +And made of hurtling darkness light<br /> +With lightning of their swords, till flight<br /> + And fear before them flew like flame,<br /> +That Arthur’s self had never known,<br /> +He said, since first his blast was blown,<br /> +Such lords of war as these alone<br /> + That whence he knew not came.</p> +<p>But while the fire of war waxed hot<br /> +The wild king hearkened, hearing not,<br /> +Through storm of spears and arrow-shot,<br /> +For succour toward him from King Lot<br /> + And all his host of sea-born men,<br /> +Strong as the strong storm-baffling bird<br /> +Whose cry round Orkney’s headlands heard<br /> +Is as the sea’s own sovereign word<br /> + That mocks our mortal ken.</p> +<p>For Merlin’s craft of prophecy,<br /> +Who wist that one of twain must die,<br /> +Put might in him to say thereby<br /> +Which head should lose its crown, and lie<br /> + Stricken, though loth he were to know<br /> +That either life should wane and fail;<br /> +Yet most might Arthur’s love avail,<br /> +And still with subtly tempered tale<br /> + His wile held fast the foe.</p> +<p>With woven words of magic might<br /> +Wherein the subtle shadow and light<br /> +Changed hope and fear till fear took flight,<br /> +He stayed King Lot’s fierce lust of fight<br /> + Till all the wild Welsh war was driven<br /> +As foam before the wind that wakes<br /> +With the all-awakening sun, and breaks<br /> +Strong ships that rue the mirth it makes<br /> + When grace to slay is given.</p> +<p>And ever hotter lit and higher,<br /> +As fire that meets encountering fire,<br /> +Waxed in King Lot his keen desire<br /> +To bid revenge within him tire<br /> + On Arthur’s ravaged fame and life:<br /> +Across the waves of war between<br /> +Floated and flashed, unseen and seen,<br /> +The lustrous likeness of the queen<br /> + Whom shame had sealed his wife.</p> +<p>But when the woful word was brought<br /> +That while he tarried, doubting nought,<br /> +The hope was lost whose goal he sought<br /> +And all the fight he yearned for fought,<br /> + His heart was rent for grief and shame,<br /> +And half his hope was set on flight<br /> +Till word was given him of a knight<br /> +Who said: “They are weary and worn with fight,<br /> + And we more fresh than flame.”</p> +<p>And bright and dark as night and day<br /> +Ere either find the unopening way<br /> +Clear, and forego the unaltering sway,<br /> +The sad king’s face shone, frowning: “Yea,<br /> + I would that every knight of mine<br /> +Would do his part as I shall do,”<br /> +He said, “till death or life anew<br /> +Shall judge between us as is due<br /> + With wiser doom than thine.”</p> +<p>Then thundered all the awakening field<br /> +With crash of hosts that clashed and reeled,<br /> +Banner to banner, shield to shield,<br /> +And spear to splintering spear-shaft, steeled<br /> + As heart against high heart of man,<br /> +As hope against high hope of knight<br /> +To pluck the crest and crown of fight<br /> +From war’s clenched hand by storm’s wild light,<br /> + For blessing given or ban.</p> +<p>All hearts of hearkening men that heard<br /> +The ban twin-born with blessing, stirred<br /> +Like springtide waters, knew the word<br /> +Whereby the steeds of storm are spurred<br /> + With ravenous rapture to destroy,<br /> +And laughed for love of battle, pierced<br /> +With passion of tempestuous thirst<br /> +And hungering hope to assuage it first<br /> + With draughts of stormy joy.</p> +<p>But sheer ahead of the iron tide<br /> +That rocked and roared from side to side<br /> +Rode as the lightning’s lord might ride<br /> +King Lot, whose heart was set to abide<br /> + All peril of the raging hour,<br /> +And all his host of warriors born<br /> +Where lands by warring seas are worn<br /> +Was only by his hands upborne<br /> + Who gave them pride and power.</p> +<p>But as the sea’s hand smites the shore<br /> +And shatters all the strengths that bore<br /> +The ravage earth may bear no more,<br /> +So smote the hand of Pellinore<br /> + Charging, a knight of Arthur’s chief,<br /> +And clove his strong steed’s neck in twain,<br /> +And smote him sheer through brow and brain,<br /> +Falling: and there King Lot lay slain,<br /> + And knew not wrath or grief.</p> +<p>And all the host of Orkney fled,<br /> +And many a mother’s son lay dead:<br /> +But when they raised the stricken head<br /> +Whence pride and power and shame were fled<br /> + And rage and anguish now cast out,<br /> +And bore it toward a kingly tomb,<br /> +The wife whose love had wrought his doom<br /> +Came thither, fair as morning’s bloom<br /> + And dark as twilight’s doubt.</p> +<p>And there her four strong sons and his,<br /> +Gawain and Gareth, Gaherys<br /> +And Agravain, whose sword’s sharp kiss<br /> +With sound of hell’s own serpent’s hiss<br /> + Should one day turn her life to death,<br /> +Stood mourning with her: but by these<br /> +Seeing Mordred as a seer that sees,<br /> +Anguish of terror bent her knees<br /> + And caught her shuddering breath.</p> +<p>The splendour of her sovereign eyes<br /> +Flashed darkness deeper than the skies<br /> +Feel or fear when the sunset dies<br /> +On his that felt as midnight rise<br /> + Their doom upon them, there undone<br /> +By faith in fear ere thought could yield<br /> +A shadowy sense of days revealed,<br /> +The ravin of the final field,<br /> + The terror of their son.</p> +<p>For Arthur’s, as they caught the light<br /> +That sought and durst not seek his sight,<br /> +Darkened, and all his spirit’s might<br /> +Withered within him even as night<br /> + Withers when sunrise thrills the sea.<br /> +But Mordred’s lightened as with fire<br /> +That smote his mother and his sire<br /> +With darkling doom and deep desire<br /> + That bade its darkness be.</p> +<p>And heavier on their hearts the weight<br /> +Sank of the fear that brings forth fate,<br /> +The bitter doubt whose womb is great<br /> +With all the grief and love and hate<br /> + That turn to fire men’s days on earth.<br /> +And glorious was the funeral made,<br /> +And dark the deepening dread that swayed<br /> +Their darkening souls whose light grew shade<br /> + With sense of death in birth.</p> +<h3>VI</h3> +<p>In autumn, when the wind and sea<br /> +Rejoice to live and laugh to be,<br /> +And scarce the blast that curbs the tree<br /> +And bids before it quail and flee<br /> + The fiery foliage, where its brand<br /> +Is radiant as the seal of spring,<br /> +Sounds less delight, and waves a wing<br /> +Less lustrous, life’s loud thanksgiving<br /> + Puts life in sea and land.</p> +<p>High hope in Balen’s heart alight<br /> +Laughed, as from all that clamorous fight<br /> +He passed and sought not Arthur’s sight,<br /> +Who fain had found his kingliest knight<br /> + And made amend for Balen’s wrong.<br /> +But Merlin gave his soul to see<br /> +Fate, rising as a shoreward sea,<br /> +And all the sorrow that should be<br /> + Ere hope or fear thought long.</p> +<p>“O where are they whose hands upbore<br /> +My battle,” Arthur said, “before<br /> +The wild Welsh host’s wide rage and roar?<br /> +Balen and Balan, Pellinore,<br /> + Where are they?” Merlin answered him:<br +/> +“Balen shall be not long away<br /> +From sight of you, but night nor day<br /> +Shall bring his brother back to say<br /> + If life burn bright or dim.”</p> +<p>“Now, by my faith,” said Arthur then,<br /> +“Two marvellous knights are they, whose ken<br /> +Toward battle makes the twain as ten,<br /> +And Balen most of all born men<br /> + Passeth of prowess all I know<br /> +Or ever found or sought to see:<br /> +Would God he would abide with me,<br /> +To face the times foretold of thee<br /> + And all the latter woe.”</p> +<p>For there had Merlin shown the king<br /> +The doom that songs unborn should sing,<br /> +The gifts that time should rise and bring<br /> +Of blithe and bitter days to spring<br /> + As weeds and flowers against the sun.<br /> +And on the king for fear’s sake fell<br /> +Sickness, and sorrow deep as hell,<br /> +Nor even might sleep bid fear farewell<br /> + If grace to sleep were won.</p> +<p>Down in a meadow green and still<br /> +He bade the folk that wrought his will<br /> +Pitch his pavilion, where the chill<br /> +Soft night would let not rest fulfil<br /> + His heart wherein dark fears lay deep.<br /> +And sharp against his hearing cast<br /> +Came a sound as of horsehoofs fast<br /> +Passing, that ere their sound were past<br /> + Aroused him as from sleep.</p> +<p>And forth he looked along the grass<br /> +And saw before his portal pass<br /> +A knight that wailed aloud, “Alas<br /> +That life should find this dolorous pass<br /> + And find no shield from doom and dole!”<br /> +And hearing all his moan, “Abide,<br /> +Fair sir,” the king arose and cried,<br /> +“And say what sorrow bids you ride<br /> + So sorrowful of soul.”</p> +<p>“My hurt may no man heal, God wot,<br /> +And help of man may speed me not,”<br /> +The sad knight said, “nor change my lot.”<br /> +And toward the castle of Melyot<br /> + Whose towers arose a league away<br /> +He passed forth sorrowing: and anon,<br /> +Ere well the woful sight were gone,<br /> +Came Balen down the meads that shone,<br /> + Strong, bright, and brave as day.</p> +<p>And seeing the king there stand, the knight<br /> +Drew rein before his face to alight<br /> +In reverence made for love’s sake bright<br /> +With joy that set his face alight<br /> + As theirs who see, alive, above,<br /> +The sovereign of their souls, whose name<br /> +To them is even as love’s own flame<br /> +To enkindle hope that heeds not fame<br /> + And knows no lord but love.</p> +<p>And Arthur smiled on him, and said,<br /> +“Right welcome be thou: by my head,<br /> +I would not wish me better sped.<br /> +For even but now there came and fled<br /> + Before me like a cloud that flies<br /> +A knight that made most heavy cheer,<br /> +I know not wherefore; nor may fear<br /> +Or pity give my heart to hear<br /> + Or lighten on mine eyes.</p> +<p>“But even for fear’s and pity’s sake<br /> +Fain were I thou shouldst overtake<br /> +And fetch again this knight that spake<br /> +No word of answering grace to make<br /> + Reply to mine that hailed him: thou,<br /> +By force or by goodwill, shalt bring<br /> +His face before me.” “Yea, my king,”<br +/> +Quoth Balen, “and a greater thing<br /> + Were less than is my vow.</p> +<p>“I would the task required and heard<br /> +Were heavier than your sovereign word<br /> +Hath laid on me:” and thence he spurred<br /> +Elate at heart as youth, and stirred<br /> + With hope as blithe as fires a boy:<br /> +And many a mile he rode, and found<br /> +Far in a forest’s glimmering bound<br /> +The man he sought afar around<br /> + And seeing took fire for joy.</p> +<p>And with him went a maiden, fair<br /> +As flowers aflush with April air.<br /> +And Balen bade him turn him there<br /> +To tell the king what woes they were<br /> + That bowed him down so sore: and he<br /> +Made woeful answer: “This should do<br /> +Great scathe to me, with nought for you<br /> +Of help that hope might hearken to<br /> + For boot that may not be.”</p> +<p>And Balen answered: “I were loth<br /> +To fight as one perforce made wroth<br /> +With one that owes by knighthood’s oath<br /> +One love, one service, and one troth<br /> + With me to him whose gracious hand<br /> +Holds fast the helm of knighthood here<br /> +Whereby man’s hope and heart may steer:<br /> +I pray you let not sorrow or fear<br /> + Against his bidding stand.”</p> +<p>The strange knight gazed on him, and spake:<br /> +“Will you, for Arthur’s royal sake,<br /> +Be warrant for me that I take<br /> +No scathe from strife that man may make?<br /> + Then will I go with you.” And he<br /> +Made joyous answer: “Yea, for I<br /> +Will be your warrant or will die.”<br /> +And thence they rode with hearts as high<br /> + As men’s that search the sea.</p> +<p>And as by noon’s large light the twain<br /> +Before the tented hall drew rein,<br /> +Suddenly fell the strange knight, slain<br /> +By one that came and went again<br /> + And none might see him; but his spear<br /> +Clove through the body, swift as fire,<br /> +The man whose doom, forefelt as dire,<br /> +Had darkened all his life’s desire,<br /> + As one that death held dear.</p> +<p>And dying he turned his face and said,<br /> +“Lo now thy warrant that my head<br /> +Should fall not, following forth where led<br /> +A knight whose pledge hath left me dead.<br /> + This darkling manslayer hath to name<br /> +Garlon: take thou my goodlier steed,<br /> +Seeing thine is less of strength and speed,<br /> +And ride, if thou be knight indeed,<br /> + Even thither whence we came.</p> +<p>“And as the maiden’s fair behest<br /> +Shall bid you follow on my quest,<br /> +Follow: and when God’s will sees best,<br /> +Revenge my death, and let me rest<br /> + As one that lived and died a knight,<br /> +Unstained of shame alive or dead.”<br /> +And Balen, wrung with sorrow, said,<br /> +“That shall I do: my hand and head<br /> + I pledge to do you right.”</p> +<p>And thence with sorrowing heart and cheer<br /> +He rode, in grief that cast out fear<br /> +Lest death in darkness yet were near,<br /> +And bore the truncheon of the spear<br /> + Wherewith the woful knight lay slain<br /> +To her with whom he rode, and she<br /> +Still bare it with her, fain to see<br /> +What righteous doom of God’s might be<br /> + The darkling manslayer’s bane.</p> +<p>And down a dim deep woodland way<br /> +They rode between the boughs asway<br /> +With flickering winds whose flash and play<br /> +Made sunlight sunnier where the day<br /> + Laughed, leapt, and fluttered like a bird<br /> +Caught in a light loose leafy net<br /> +That earth for amorous heaven had set<br /> +To hold and see the sundawn yet<br /> + And hear what morning heard.</p> +<p>There in the sweet soft shifting light<br /> +Across their passage rode a knight<br /> +Flushed hot from hunting as from fight,<br /> +And seeing the sorrow-stricken sight<br /> + Made question of them why they rode<br /> +As mourners sick at heart and sad,<br /> +When all alive about them bade<br /> +Sweet earth for heaven’s sweet sake be glad<br /> + As heaven for earth’s love glowed.</p> +<p>“Me lists not tell you,” Balen said.<br /> +The strange knight’s face grew keen and red<br /> +“Now, might my hand but keep my head,<br /> +Even here should one of twain lie dead<br /> + Were he no better armed than I.”<br /> +And Balen spake with smiling speed,<br /> +Where scorn and courtesy kept heed<br /> +Of either: “That should little need:<br /> + Not here shall either die.”</p> +<p>And all the cause he told him through<br /> +As one that feared not though he knew<br /> +All: and the strange knight spake anew,<br /> +Saying: “I will part no more from you<br /> + While life shall last me.” So they +went<br /> +Where he might arm himself to ride,<br /> +And rode across wild ways and wide<br /> +To where against a churchyard side<br /> + A hermit’s harbour leant.</p> +<p>And there against them riding came<br /> +Fleet as the lightning’s laugh and flame<br /> +The invisible evil, even the same<br /> +They sought and might not curse by name<br /> + As hell’s foul child on earth set free,<br /> +And smote the strange knight through, and fled,<br /> +And left the mourners by the dead.<br /> +“Alas, again,” Sir Balen said,<br /> + “This wrong he hath done to me.”</p> +<p>And there they laid their dead to sleep<br /> +Royally, lying where wild winds keep<br /> +Keen watch and wail more soft and deep<br /> +Than where men’s choirs bid music weep<br /> + And song like incense heave and swell.<br /> +And forth again they rode, and found<br /> +Before them, dire in sight and sound,<br /> +A castle girt about and bound<br /> + With sorrow like a spell.</p> +<p>Above it seemed the sun at noon<br /> +Sad as a wintry withering moon<br /> +That shudders while the waste wind’s tune<br /> +Craves ever none may guess what boon,<br /> + But all may know the boon for dire.<br /> +And evening on its darkness fell<br /> +More dark than very death’s farewell,<br /> +And night about it hung like hell,<br /> + Whose fume the dawn made fire.</p> +<p>And Balen lighted down and passed<br /> +Within the gateway, whence no blast<br /> +Rang as the sheer portcullis, cast<br /> +Suddenly down, fell, and made fast<br /> + The gate behind him, whence he spied<br /> +A sudden rage of men without<br /> +And ravin of a murderous rout<br /> +That girt the maiden hard about<br /> + With death on either side.</p> +<p>And seeing that shame and peril, fear<br /> +Bade wrath and grief awake and hear<br /> +What shame should say in fame’s wide ear<br /> +If she, by sorrow sealed more dear<br /> + Than joy might make her, so should die:<br /> +And up the tower’s curled stair he sprang<br /> +As one that flies death’s deadliest fang,<br /> +And leapt right out amid their gang<br /> + As fire from heaven on high.</p> +<p>And they thereunder seeing the knight<br /> +Unhurt among their press alight<br /> +And bare his sword for chance of fight<br /> +Stood from him, loth to strive or smite,<br /> + And bade him hear their woful word,<br /> +That not the maiden’s death they sought;<br /> +But there through years too dire for thought<br /> +Had lain their lady stricken, and nought<br /> + Might heal her: and he heard.</p> +<p>For there a maiden clean and whole<br /> +In virgin body and virgin soul,<br /> +Whose name was writ on royal roll,<br /> +That would but stain a silver bowl<br /> + With offering of her stainless blood,<br /> +Therewith might heal her: so they stayed<br /> +For hope’s sad sake each blameless maid<br /> +There journeying in that dolorous shade<br /> + Whose bloom was bright in bud.</p> +<p>No hurt nor harm to her it were<br /> +If she should yield a sister there<br /> +Some tribute of her blood, and fare<br /> +Forth with this joy at heart to bear,<br /> + That all unhurt and unafraid<br /> +This grace she had here by God’s grace wrought.<br /> +And kindling all with kindly thought<br /> +And love that saw save love’s self nought,<br /> + Shone, smiled, and spake the maid.</p> +<p>“Good knight of mine, good will have I<br /> +To help this healing though I die.”<br /> +“Nay,” Balen said, “but love may try<br /> +What help in living love may lie.<br /> + —I will not lose the life of her<br /> +While my life lasteth.” So she gave<br /> +The tribute love was fain to crave,<br /> +But might not heal though fain to save,<br /> + Were God’s grace helpfuller.</p> +<p>Another maid in later Mays<br /> +Won with her life that woful praise,<br /> +And died. But they, when surging day’s<br /> +Deep tide fulfilled the dawn’s wide ways,<br /> + Rode forth, and found by day or night<br /> +No chance to cross their wayfaring<br /> +Till when they saw the fourth day spring<br /> +A knight’s hall gave them harbouring<br /> + Rich as a king’s house might.</p> +<p>And while they sat at meat and spake<br /> +Words bright and kind as grace might make<br /> +Sweet for true knighthood’s kindly sake,<br /> +They heard a cry beside them break<br /> + The still-souled joy of blameless rest.<br /> +“What noise is this?” quoth Balen. +“Nay,”<br /> +His knightly host made answer, “may<br /> +Our grief not grieve you though I say<br /> + How here I dwell unblest.</p> +<p>“Not many a day has lived and died<br /> +Since at a tournay late I tried<br /> +My strength to smite and turn and ride<br /> +Against a knight of kinglike pride,<br /> + King Pellam’s brother: twice I smote<br /> +The splendour of his strength to dust:<br /> +And he, fulfilled of hate’s fierce lust,<br /> +Swore vengeance, pledged for hell to trust,<br /> + And keen as hell’s wide throat.</p> +<p>“Invisible as the spirit of night<br /> +That heaven and earth in depth and height<br /> +May see not by the mild moon’s light<br /> +Nor even when stars would grant them sight,<br /> + He walks and slays as plague’s blind breath<br +/> +Slays: and my son, whose anguish here<br /> +Makes moan perforce that mars our cheer,<br /> +He wounded, even ere love might fear<br /> + That hate were strong as death.</p> +<p>“Nor may my son be whole till he<br /> +Whose stroke through him hath stricken me<br /> +Shall give again his blood to be<br /> +Our healing: yet may no man see<br /> + This felon, clothed with darkness round<br /> +And keen as lightning’s life.” Thereon<br /> +Spake Balen, and his presence shone<br /> +Even as the sun’s when stars are gone<br /> + That hear dawn’s trumpet sound.</p> +<p>“That knight I know: two knights of mine,<br /> +Two comrades, sealed by faith’s bright sign,<br /> +Whose eyes as ours that live should shine,<br /> +And drink the golden sunlight’s wine<br /> + With joy’s thanksgiving that they live,<br /> +He hath slain in even the same blind wise:<br /> +Were all wide wealth beneath the skies<br /> +Mine, might I meet him, eyes on eyes,<br /> + All would I laugh to give.”</p> +<p>His host made answer, and his gaze<br /> +Grew bright with trust as dawn’s moist maze<br /> +With fire: “Within these twenty days,<br /> +King Pellam, lord of Lystenayse,<br /> + Holds feast through all this country cried,<br /> +And there before the knightly king<br /> +May no knight come except he bring<br /> +For witness of his wayfaring<br /> + His paramour or bride.</p> +<p>“And there that day, so soon to shine,<br /> +This knight, your felon foe and mine,<br /> +Shall show, full-flushed with bloodred wine,<br /> +The fierce false face whereon we pine<br /> + To wreak the wrong he hath wrought us, bare<br /> +As shame should see and brand it.” +“Then,”<br /> +Said Balen, “shall he give again<br /> +His blood to heal your son, and men<br /> + Shall see death blind him there.”</p> +<p>“Forth will we fare to-morrow,” said<br /> +His host: and forth, as sunrise led,<br /> +They rode; and fifteen days were fled<br /> +Ere toward their goal their steeds had sped.<br /> + And there alighting might they find<br /> +For Balen’s host no place to rest,<br /> +Who came without a gentler guest<br /> +Beside him: and that household’s hest<br /> + Bade leave his sword behind.</p> +<p>“Nay,” Balen said, “that do I not:<br /> +My country’s custom stands, God wot,<br /> +That none whose lot is knighthood’s lot,<br /> +To ride where chance as fire is hot<br /> + With hope or promise given of fight,<br /> +Shall fail to keep, for knighthood’s part,<br /> +His weapon with him as his heart;<br /> +And as I came will I depart,<br /> + Or hold herein my right.”</p> +<p>Then gat he leave to wear his sword<br /> +Beside the strange king’s festal board<br /> +Where feasted many a knight and lord<br /> +In seemliness of fair accord:<br /> + And Balen asked of one beside,<br /> +“Is there not in this court, if fame<br /> +Keep faith, a knight that hath to name<br /> +Garlon?” and saying that word of shame,<br /> + He scanned that place of pride.</p> +<p>“Yonder he goeth against the light,<br /> +He with the face as swart as night,”<br /> +Quoth the other: “but he rides to fight<br /> +Hid round by charms from all men’s sight,<br /> + And many a noble knight he hath slain,<br /> +Being wrapt in darkness deep as hell<br /> +And silence dark as shame.” “Ah, +well,”<br /> +Said Balen, “is that he? the spell<br /> + May be the sorcerer’s bane.”</p> +<p>Then Balen gazed upon him long,<br /> +And thought, “If here I wreak my wrong,<br /> +Alive I may not scape, so strong<br /> +The felon’s friends about him throng;<br /> + And if I leave him here alive,<br /> +This chance perchance may life not give<br /> +Again: much evil, if he live,<br /> +He needs must do, should fear forgive<br /> + When wrongs bid strike and strive.”</p> +<p>And Garlon, seeing how Balen’s eye<br /> +Dwelt on him as his heart waxed high<br /> +With joy in wrath to see him nigh,<br /> +Rose wolf-like with a wolfish cry<br /> + And crossed and smote him on the face,<br /> +Saying, “Knight, what wouldst thou with me? Eat,<br +/> +For shame, and gaze not: eat thy meat<br /> +Do that thou art come for: stands thy seat<br /> + Next ours of royal race?”</p> +<p>“Well hast thou said: thy rede rings true;<br /> +That which I came for will I do,”<br /> +Quoth Balen: forth his fleet sword flew,<br /> +And clove the head of Garlon through<br /> + Clean to the shoulders. Then he cried<br /> +Loud to his lady, “Give me here<br /> +The truncheon of the shameful spear<br /> +Wherewith he slew your knight, when fear<br /> + Bade hate in darkness ride.”</p> +<p>And gladly, bright with grief made glad,<br /> +She gave the truncheon as he bade,<br /> +For still she bare it with her, sad<br /> +And strong in hopeless hope she had,<br /> + Through all dark days of thwarting fear,<br /> +To see if doom should fall aright<br /> +And as God’s fire-fraught thunder smite<br /> +That head, clothed round with hell-faced night,<br /> + Bare now before her here.</p> +<p>And Balen smote therewith the dead<br /> +Dark felon’s body through, and said<br /> +Aloud, “With even this truncheon, red<br /> +With baser blood than brave men bled<br /> + Whom in thy shameful hand it slew,<br /> +Thou hast slain a nobler knight, and now<br /> +It clings and cleaves thy body: thou<br /> +Shall cleave again no brave man’s brow,<br /> + Though hell would aid anew.”</p> +<p>And toward his host he turned and spake;<br /> +“Now for your son’s long-suffering sake<br /> +Blood ye may fetch enough, and take<br /> +Wherewith to heal his hurt, and make<br /> + Death warm as life.” Then rose a cry<br +/> +Loud as the wind’s when stormy spring<br /> +Makes all the woodland rage and ring:<br /> +“Thou hast slain my brother,” said the king,<br /> + “And here with him shalt die.”</p> +<p>“Ay?” Balen laughed him answer. +“Well,<br /> +Do it then thyself.” And the answer fell<br /> +Fierce as a blast of hate from hell,<br /> +“No man of mine that with me dwell<br /> + Shall strike at thee but I their lord<br /> +For love of this my brother slain.”<br /> +And Pellam caught and grasped amain<br /> +A grim great weapon, fierce and fain<br /> + To feed his hungering sword.</p> +<p>And eagerly he smote, and sped<br /> +Not well: for Balen’s blade, yet red<br /> +With lifeblood of the murderous dead,<br /> +Between the swordstroke and his head<br /> + Shone, and the strength of the eager stroke<br /> +Shore it in sunder: then the knight,<br /> +Naked and weaponless for fight,<br /> +Ran seeking him a sword to smite<br /> + As hope within him woke.</p> +<p>And so their flight for deathward fast<br /> +From chamber forth to chamber passed<br /> +Where lay no weapon, till the last<br /> +Whose doors made way for Balen cast<br /> + Upon him as a sudden spell<br /> +Wonder that even as lightning leapt<br /> +Across his heart and eyes, and swept<br /> +As storm across his soul that kept<br /> + Wild watch, and watched not well.</p> +<p>For there the deed he did, being near<br /> +Death’s danger, breathless as the deer<br /> +Driven hard to bay, but void of fear,<br /> +Brought sorrow down for many a year<br /> + On many a man in many a land.<br /> +All glorious shone that chamber, bright<br /> +As burns at sunrise heaven’s own height:<br /> +With cloth of gold the bed was dight,<br /> + That flamed on either hand.</p> +<p>And one he saw within it lie:<br /> +A table of all clear gold thereby<br /> +Stood stately, fair as morning’s eye,<br /> +With four strong silver pillars, high<br /> + And firm as faith and hope may be:<br /> +And on it shone the gift he sought,<br /> +A spear most marvellously wrought,<br /> +That when his eye and handgrip caught<br /> + Small fear at heart had he.</p> +<p>Right on King Pellam then, as fire<br /> +Turns when the thwarting winds wax higher,<br /> +He turned, and smote him down. So dire<br /> +The stroke was, when his heart’s desire<br /> + Struck, and had all its fill of hate,<br /> +That as the king fell swooning down<br /> +Fell the walls, rent from base to crown,<br /> +Prone as prone seas that break and drown<br /> + Ships fraught with doom for freight.</p> +<p>And there for three days’ silent space<br /> +Balen and Pellam face to face<br /> +Lay dead or deathlike, and the place<br /> +Was death’s blind kingdom, till the grace<br /> + That God had given the sacred seer<br /> +For counsel or for comfort led<br /> +His Merlin thither, and he said,<br /> +Standing between the quick and dead,<br /> + “Rise up, and rest not here.”</p> +<p>And Balen rose and set his eyes<br /> +Against the seer’s as one that tries<br /> +His heart against the sea’s and sky’s<br /> +And fears not if he lives or dies,<br /> + Saying, “I would have my damosel,<br /> +Ere I fare forth, to fare with me.”<br /> +And sadly Merlin answered, “See<br /> +Where now she lies; death knows if she<br /> + Shall now fare ill or well.</p> +<p>“And in this world we meet no more,<br /> +Balen.” And Balen, sorrowing sore,<br /> +Though fearless yet the heart he bore<br /> +Beat toward the life that lay before,<br /> + Rode forth through many a wild waste land<br /> +Where men cried out against him, mad<br /> +With grievous faith in fear that bade<br /> +Their wrath make moan for doubt they had<br /> + Lest hell had armed his hand.</p> +<p>For in that chamber’s wondrous shrine<br /> +Was part of Christ’s own blood, the wine<br /> +Shed of the true triumphal vine<br /> +Whose growth bids earth’s deep darkness shine<br /> + As heaven’s deep light through the air and +sea;<br /> +That mystery toward our northern shore<br /> +Arimathean Joseph bore<br /> +For healing of our sins of yore,<br /> + That grace even there might be.</p> +<p>And with that spear there shrined apart<br /> +Was Christ’s side smitten to the heart.<br /> +And fiercer than the lightning’s dart<br /> +The stroke was, and the deathlike smart<br /> + Wherewith, nigh drained of blood and breath,<br /> +The king lay stricken as one long dead:<br /> +And Joseph’s was the blood there shed,<br /> +For near akin was he that bled,<br /> + Near even as life to death.</p> +<p>And therefore fell on all that land<br /> +Sorrow: for still on either hand,<br /> +As Balen rode alone and scanned<br /> +Bright fields and cities built to stand<br /> + Till time should break them, dead men lay;<br /> +And loud and long from all their folk<br /> +Living, one cry that cursed him broke;<br /> +Three countries had his dolorous stroke<br /> + Slain, or should surely slay.</p> +<h3>VII</h3> +<p>In winter, when the year burns low<br /> +As fire wherein no firebrands glow,<br /> +And winds dishevel as they blow<br /> +The lovely stormy wings of snow,<br /> + The hearts of northern men burn bright<br /> +With joy that mocks the joy of spring<br /> +To hear all heaven’s keen clarions ring<br /> +Music that bids the spirit sing<br /> + And day give thanks for night.</p> +<p>Aloud and dark as hell or hate<br /> +Round Balen’s head the wind of fate<br /> +Blew storm and cloud from death’s wide gate:<br /> +But joy as grief in him was great<br /> + To face God’s doom and live or die,<br /> +Sorrowing for ill wrought unaware,<br /> +Rejoicing in desire to dare<br /> +All ill that innocence might bear<br /> + With changeless heart and eye.</p> +<p>Yet passing fain he was when past<br /> +Those lands and woes at length and last.<br /> +Eight times, as thence he fared forth fast,<br /> +Dawn rose and even was overcast<br /> + With starry darkness dear as day,<br /> +Before his venturous quest might meet<br /> +Adventure, seeing within a sweet<br /> +Green low-lying forest, hushed in heat,<br /> + A tower that barred his way.</p> +<p>Strong summer, dumb with rapture, bound<br /> +With golden calm the woodlands round<br /> +Wherethrough the knight forth faring found<br /> +A knight that on the greenwood ground<br /> + Sat mourning: fair he was to see,<br /> +And moulded as for love or fight<br /> +A maiden’s dreams might frame her knight;<br /> +But sad in joy’s far-flowering sight<br /> + As grief’s blind thrall might be.</p> +<p>“God save you,” Balen softly said,<br /> +“What grief bows down your heart and head<br /> +Thus, as one sorrowing for his dead?<br /> +Tell me, if haply I may stead<br /> + In aught your sorrow, that I may.”<br /> +“Sir knight,” that other said, “thy word<br /> +Makes my grief heavier that I heard.”<br /> +And pity and wonder inly stirred<br /> + Drew Balen thence away.</p> +<p>And so withdrawn with silent speed<br /> +He saw the sad knight’s stately steed,<br /> +A war-horse meet for warrior’s need,<br /> +That none who passed might choose but heed,<br /> + So strong he stood, so great, so fair,<br /> +With eyes afire for flight or fight,<br /> +A joy to look on, mild in might,<br /> +And swift and keen and kind as light,<br /> + And all as clear of care.</p> +<p>And Balen, gazing on him, heard<br /> +Again his master’s woful word<br /> +Sound sorrow through the calm unstirred<br /> +By fluttering wind or flickering bird,<br /> + Thus: “Ah, fair lady and faithless, why<br /> +Break thy pledged faith to meet me? soon<br /> +An hour beyond thy trothplight noon<br /> +Shall strike my death-bell, and thy boon<br /> + Is this, that here I die.</p> +<p>“My curse for all thy gifts may be<br /> +Heavier than death or night on thee;<br /> +For now this sword thou gavest me<br /> +Shall set me from thy bondage free.”<br /> + And there the man had died self-slain,<br /> +But Balen leapt on him and caught<br /> +The blind fierce hand that fain had wrought<br /> +Self-murder, stung with fire of thought,<br /> + As rage makes anguish fain.</p> +<p>Then, mad for thwarted grief, “Let go<br /> +My hand,” the fool of wrath and woe<br /> +Cried, “or I slay thee.” Scarce the glow<br /> +In Balen’s cheek and eye might show,<br /> + As dawn shows day while seas lie chill,<br /> +He heard, though pity took not heed,<br /> +But smiled and spake, “That shall not need:<br /> +What man may do to bid you speed<br /> + I, so God speed me, will.”</p> +<p>And the other craved his name, beguiled<br /> +By hope that made his madness mild.<br /> +Again Sir Balen spake and smiled:<br /> +“My name is Balen, called the Wild<br /> + By knights whom kings and courts make tame<br /> +Because I ride alone afar<br /> +And follow but my soul for star.”<br /> +“Ah, sir, I know the knight you are<br /> + And all your fiery fame.</p> +<p>“The knight that bears two swords I know,<br /> +Most praised of all men, friend and foe,<br /> +For prowess of your hands, that show<br /> +Dark war the way where balefires glow<br /> + And kindle glory like the dawn’s.”<br /> +So spake the sorrowing knight, and stood<br /> +As one whose heart fresh hope made good:<br /> +And forth they rode by wold and wood<br /> + And down the glimmering lawns.</p> +<p>And Balen craved his name who rode<br /> +Beside him, where the wild wood glowed<br /> +With joy to feel how noontide flowed<br /> +Through glade and glen and rough green road<br /> + Till earth grew joyful as the sea.<br /> +“My name is Garnysshe of the Mount,<br /> +A poor man’s son of none account,”<br /> +He said, “where springs of loftier fount<br /> + Laugh loud with pride to be.</p> +<p>“But strength in weakness lives and stands<br /> +As rocks that rise through shifting sands;<br /> +And for the prowess of my hands<br /> +One made me knight and gave me lands,<br /> + Duke Hermel, lord from far to near,<br /> +Our prince; and she that loved me—she<br /> +I love, and deemed she loved but me,<br /> +His daughter, pledged her faith to be<br /> + Ere now beside me here.”</p> +<p>And Balen, brief of speech as light<br /> +Whose word, beheld of depth and height,<br /> +Strikes silence through the stars of night,<br /> +Spake, and his face as dawn’s grew bright,<br /> + For hope to help a happier man,<br /> +“How far then lies she hence?” “By +this,”<br /> +Her lover sighed and said, “I wis,<br /> +Not six fleet miles the passage is,<br /> + And straight as thought could span.”</p> +<p>So rode they swift and sure, and found<br /> +A castle walled and dyked around:<br /> +And Balen, as a warrior bound<br /> +On search where hope might fear to sound<br /> + The darkness of the deeps of doubt,<br /> +Made entrance through the guardless gate<br /> +As life, while hope in life grows great,<br /> +Makes way between the doors of fate<br /> + That death may pass thereout.</p> +<p>Through many a glorious chamber, wrought<br /> +For all delight that love’s own thought<br /> +Might dream or dwell in, Balen sought<br /> +And found of all he looked for nought,<br /> + For like a shining shell her bed<br /> +Shone void and vacant of her: thence<br /> +Through devious wonders bright and dense<br /> +He passed and saw with shame-struck sense<br /> + Where shame and faith lay dead.</p> +<p>Down in a sweet small garden, fair<br /> +With flowerful joy in the ardent air,<br /> +He saw, and raged with loathing, where<br /> +She lay with love-dishevelled hair<br /> + Beneath a broad bright laurel tree<br /> +And clasped in amorous arms a knight,<br /> +The unloveliest that his scornful sight<br /> +Had dwelt on yet; a shame the bright<br /> + Broad noon might shrink to see.</p> +<p>And thence in wrathful hope he turned,<br /> +Hot as the heart within him burned,<br /> +To meet the knight whose love, so spurned<br /> +And spat on and made nought of, yearned<br /> + And dreamed and hoped and lived in vain,<br /> +And said, “I have found her sleeping fast,”<br /> +And led him where the shadows cast<br /> +From leaves wherethrough light winds ran past<br /> + Screened her from sun and rain.</p> +<p>But Garnysshe, seeing, reeled as he stood<br /> +Like a tree, kingliest of the wood,<br /> +Half hewn through: and the burning blood<br /> +Through lips and nostrils burst aflood:<br /> + And gathering back his rage and might<br /> +As broken breakers rally and roar<br /> +The loud wind down that drives off shore,<br /> +He smote their heads off: there no more<br /> + Their life might shame the light.</p> +<p>Then turned he back toward Balen, mad<br /> +With grief, and said, “The grief I had<br /> +Was nought: ere this my life was glad:<br /> +Thou hast done this deed: I was but sad<br /> + And fearful how my hope might fare:<br /> +I had lived my sorrow down, hadst thou<br /> +Not shown me what I saw but now.”<br /> +The sorrow and scorn on Balen’s brow<br /> + Bade silence curb him there.</p> +<p>And Balen answered: “What I did<br /> +I did to hearten thee and bid<br /> +Thy courage know that shame should rid<br /> +A man’s high heart of love that hid<br /> + Blind shame within its core: God knows,<br /> +I did, to set a bondman free,<br /> +But as I would thou hadst done by me,<br /> +That seeing what love must die to see<br /> + Love’s end might well be +woe’s.”</p> +<p>“Alas,” the woful weakling said,<br /> +“I have slain what most I loved: I have shed<br /> +The blood most near my heart: the head<br /> +Lies cold as earth, defiled and dead,<br /> + That all my life was lighted by,<br /> +That all my soul bowed down before,<br /> +And now may bear with life no more:<br /> +For now my sorrow that I bore<br /> + Is twofold, and I die.”</p> +<p>Then with his red wet sword he rove<br /> +His breast in sunder, where it clove<br /> +Life, and no pulse against it strove,<br /> +So sure and strong the deep stroke drove<br /> + Deathward: and Balen, seeing him dead,<br /> +Rode thence, lest folk would say he had slain<br /> +Those three; and ere three days again<br /> +Had seen the sun’s might wax and wane,<br /> + Far forth he had spurred and sped.</p> +<p>And riding past a cross whereon<br /> +Broad golden letters written shone,<br /> +Saying, “No knight born may ride alone<br /> +Forth toward this castle,” and all the stone<br /> + Glowed in the sun’s glare even as though<br /> +Blood stained it from the crucified<br /> +Dead burden of one that there had died,<br /> +An old hoar man he saw beside<br /> + Whose face was wan as woe.</p> +<p>“Balen the Wild,” he said, “this way<br /> +Thy way lies not: thou hast passed to-day<br /> +Thy bands: but turn again, and stay<br /> +Thy passage, while thy soul hath sway<br /> + Within thee, and through God’s good power<br +/> +It will avail thee:” and anon<br /> +His likeness as a cloud was gone,<br /> +And Balen’s heart within him shone<br /> + Clear as the cloudless hour.</p> +<p>Nor fate nor fear might overcast<br /> +The soul now near its peace at last.<br /> +Suddenly, thence as forth he past,<br /> +A mighty and a deadly blast<br /> + Blown of a hunting-horn he heard,<br /> +As when the chase hath nobly sped.<br /> +“That blast is blown for me,” he said,<br /> +“The prize am I who am yet not dead,”<br /> + And smiled upon the word.</p> +<p>As toward a royal hart’s death rang<br /> +That note, whence all the loud wood sang<br /> +With winged and living sound that sprang<br /> +Like fire, and keen as fire’s own fang<br /> + Pierced the sweet silence that it slew.<br /> +But nought like death or strife was here:<br /> +Fair semblance and most goodly cheer<br /> +They made him, they whose troop drew near<br /> + As death among them drew.</p> +<p>A hundred ladies well arrayed<br /> +And many a knight well weaponed made<br /> +That kindly show of cheer: the glade<br /> +Shone round them till its very shade<br /> + Lightened and laughed from grove to lawn<br /> +To hear and see them: so they brought<br /> +Within a castle fair as thought<br /> +Could dream that wizard hands had wrought<br /> + The guest among them drawn.</p> +<p>All manner of glorious joy was there:<br /> +Harping and dancing, loud and fair,<br /> +And minstrelsy that made of air<br /> +Fire, so like fire its raptures were.<br /> + Then the chief lady spake on high:<br /> +“Knight with the two swords, one of two<br /> +Must help you here or fall from you:<br /> +For needs you now must have ado<br /> + And joust with one hereby.</p> +<p>“A good knight guards an island here<br /> +Against all swords that chance brings near,<br /> +And there with stroke of sword and spear<br /> +Must all for whom these halls make cheer<br /> + Fight, and redeem or yield up life.”<br /> +“An evil custom,” Balen said,<br /> +“Is this, that none whom chance hath led<br /> +Hither, if knighthood crown his head,<br /> + May pass unstirred to strife.”</p> +<p>“You shall not have ado to fight<br /> +Here save against one only knight,”<br /> +She said, and all her face grew bright<br /> +As hell-fire, lit with hungry light<br /> + That wicked laughter touched with flame.<br /> +“Well, since I shall thereto,” said he,<br /> +“I am ready at heart as death for me:<br /> +Fain would I be where death should be<br /> + And life should lose its name.</p> +<p>“But travelling men whose goal afar<br /> +Shines as a cloud-constraining star<br /> +Are often weary, and wearier are<br /> +Their steeds that feel each fret and jar<br /> + Wherewith the wild ways wound them: yet,<br /> +Albeit my horse be weary, still<br /> +My heart is nowise weary; will<br /> +Sustains it even till death fulfil<br /> + My trust upon him set.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said a knight thereby that stood,<br /> +“Meseems your shield is now not good<br /> +But worn with warrior work, nor could<br /> +Sustain in strife the strokes it would:<br /> + A larger will I lend you.” “Ay,<br +/> +Thereof I thank you,” Balen said,<br /> +Being single of heart as one that read<br /> +No face aright whence faith had fled,<br /> + Nor dreamed that faith could fly.</p> +<p>And so he took that shield unknown<br /> +And left for treason’s touch his own,<br /> +And toward that island rode alone,<br /> +Nor heard the blast against him blown<br /> + Sound in the wind’s and water’s +sound,<br /> +But hearkening toward the stream’s edge heard<br /> +Nought save the soft stream’s rippling word,<br /> +Glad with the gladness of a bird,<br /> + That sang to the air around.</p> +<p>And there against the water-side<br /> +He saw, fast moored to rock and ride,<br /> +A fair great boat anear abide<br /> +Like one that waits the turning tide,<br /> + Wherein embarked his horse and he<br /> +Passed over toward no kindly strand:<br /> +And where they stood again on land<br /> +There stood a maiden hard at hand<br /> + Who seeing them wept to see.</p> +<p>And “O knight Balen,” was her cry,<br /> +“Why have ye left your own shield? why<br /> +Come hither out of time to die?<br /> +For had ye kept your shield, thereby<br /> + Ye had yet been known, and died not here.<br /> +Great pity it is of you this day<br /> +As ever was of knight, or may<br /> +Be ever, seeing in war’s bright way<br /> + Praise knows not Balen’s peer.”</p> +<p>And Balen said, “Thou hast heard my name<br /> +Right: it repenteth me, though shame<br /> +May tax me not with base men’s blame,<br /> +That ever, hap what will, I came<br /> + Within this country; yet, being come,<br /> +For shame I may not turn again<br /> +Now, that myself and nobler men<br /> +May scorn me: now is more than then,<br /> + And faith bids fear be dumb.</p> +<p>“Be it life or death, my chance I take,<br /> +Be it life’s to build or death’s to break:<br /> +And fall what may, me lists not make<br /> +Moan for sad life’s or death’s sad sake.”<br /> + Then looked he on his armour, glad<br /> +And high of heart, and found it strong:<br /> +And all his soul became a song<br /> +And soared in prayer that soared not long,<br /> + For all the hope it had.</p> +<p>Then saw he whence against him came<br /> +A steed whose trappings shone like flame,<br /> +And he that rode him showed the same<br /> +Fierce colour, bright as fire or fame,<br /> + But dark the visors were as night<br /> +That hid from Balen Balan’s face,<br /> +And his from Balan: God’s own grace<br /> +Forsook them for a shadowy space<br /> + Where darkness cast out light.</p> +<p>The two swords girt that Balen bare<br /> +Gave Balan for a breath’s while there<br /> +Pause, wondering if indeed it were<br /> +Balen his brother, bound to dare<br /> + The chance of that unhappy quest:<br /> +But seeing not as he thought to see<br /> +His shield, he deemed it was not he,<br /> +And so, as fate bade sorrow be,<br /> + They laid their spears in rest.</p> +<p>So mighty was the course they ran<br /> +With spear to spear so great of span,<br /> +Each fell back stricken, man by man,<br /> +Horse by horse, borne down: so the ban<br /> + That wrought by doom against them wrought:<br /> +But Balen by his falling steed<br /> +Was bruised the sorer, being indeed<br /> +Way-weary, like a rain-bruised reed,<br /> + With travel ere he fought.</p> +<p>And Balen rose again from swoon<br /> +First, and went toward him: all too soon<br /> +He too then rose, and the evil boon<br /> +Of strength came back, and the evil tune<br /> + Of battle unnatural made again<br /> +Mad music as for death’s wide ear<br /> +Listening and hungering toward the near<br /> +Last sigh that life or death might hear<br /> + At last from dying men.</p> +<p>Balan smote Balen first, and clove<br /> +His lifted shield that rose and strove<br /> +In vain against the stroke that drove<br /> +Down: as the web that morning wove<br /> + Of glimmering pearl from spray to spray<br /> +Dies when the strong sun strikes it, so<br /> +Shrank the steel, tempered thrice to show<br /> +Strength, as the mad might of the blow<br /> + Shore Balen’s helm away.</p> +<p>Then turning as a turning wave<br /> +Against the land-wind, blind and brave<br /> +In hope that dreams despair may save,<br /> +With even the unhappy sword that gave<br /> + The gifts of fame and fate in one<br /> +He smote his brother, and there had nigh<br /> +Felled him: and while they breathed, his eye<br /> +Glanced up, and saw beneath the sky<br /> + Sights fairer than the sun.</p> +<p>The towers of all the castle there<br /> +Stood full of ladies, blithe and fair<br /> +As the earth beneath and the amorous air<br /> +About them and above them were:<br /> + So toward the blind and fateful fight<br /> +Again those brethren went, and sore<br /> +Were all the strokes they smote and bore,<br /> +And breathed again, and fell once more<br /> + To battle in their sight.</p> +<p>With blood that either spilt and bled<br /> +Was all the ground they fought on red,<br /> +And each knight’s hauberk hewn and shred<br /> +Left each unmailed and naked, shed<br /> + From off them even as mantles cast:<br /> +And oft they breathed, and drew but breath<br /> +Brief as the word strong sorrow saith,<br /> +And poured and drank the draught of death,<br /> + Till fate was full at last.</p> +<p>And Balan, younger born than he<br /> +Whom darkness bade him slay, and be<br /> +Slain, as in mist where none may see<br /> +If aught abide or fall or flee,<br /> + Drew back a little and laid him down,<br /> +Dying: but Balen stood, and said,<br /> +As one between the quick and dead<br /> +Might stand and speak, “What good knight’s head<br /> + Hath won this mortal crown?</p> +<p>“What knight art thou? for never I<br /> +Who now beside thee dead shall die<br /> +Found yet the knight afar or nigh<br /> +That matched me.” Then his brother’s eye<br /> + Flashed pride and love; he spake and smiled<br /> +And felt in death life’s quickening flame,<br /> +And answered: “Balan is my name,<br /> +The good knight Balen’s brother; fame<br /> + Calls and miscalls him wild.”</p> +<p>The cry from Balen’s lips that sprang<br /> +Sprang sharper than his sword’s stroke rang.<br /> +More keen than death’s or memory’s fang,<br /> +Through sense and soul the shuddering pang<br /> + Shivered: and scarce he had cried, “Alas<br /> +That ever I should see this day,”<br /> +When sorrow swooned from him away<br /> +As blindly back he fell, and lay<br /> + Where sleep lets anguish pass.</p> +<p>But Balan rose on hands and knees<br /> +And crawled by childlike dim degrees<br /> +Up toward his brother, as a breeze<br /> +Creeps wingless over sluggard seas<br /> + When all the wind’s heart fails it: so<br /> +Beneath their mother’s eyes had he,<br /> +A babe that laughed with joy to be,<br /> +Made toward him standing by her knee<br /> + For love’s sake long ago.</p> +<p>Then, gathering strength up for a space,<br /> +From off his brother’s dying face<br /> +With dying hands that wrought apace<br /> +While death and life would grant them grace<br /> + He loosed his helm and knew not him,<br /> +So scored with blood it was, and hewn<br /> +Athwart with darkening wounds: but soon<br /> +Life strove and shuddered through the swoon<br /> + Wherein its light lay dim.</p> +<p>And sorrow set these chained words free:<br /> +“O Balan, O my brother! me<br /> +Thou hast slain, and I, my brother, thee<br /> +And now far hence, on shore and sea,<br /> + Shall all the wide world speak of us.”<br /> +“Alas,” said Balan, “that I might<br /> +Not know you, seeing two swords were dight<br /> +About you; now the unanswering sight<br /> + Hath here found answer thus.</p> +<p>“Because you bore another shield<br /> +Than yours, that even ere youth could wield<br /> +Like arms with manhood’s tried and steeled<br /> +Shone as my star of battle-field,<br /> + I deemed it surely might not be<br /> +My brother.” Then his brother spake<br /> +Fiercely: “Would God, for thy sole sake,<br /> +I had my life again, to take<br /> + Revenge for only thee!</p> +<p>“For all this deadly work was wrought<br /> +Of one false knight’s false word and thought,<br /> +Whose mortal craft and counsel caught<br /> +And snared my faith who doubted nought,<br /> + And made me put my shield away.<br /> +Ah, might I live, I would destroy<br /> +That castle for its customs: joy<br /> +There makes of grief a deadly toy,<br /> + And death makes night of day.”</p> +<p>“Well done were that, if aught were done<br /> +Well ever here beneath the sun,”<br /> +Said Balan: “better work were none:<br /> +For hither since I came and won<br /> + A woful honour born of death,<br /> +When here my hap it was to slay<br /> +A knight who kept this island way,<br /> +I might not pass by night or day<br /> + Hence, as this token saith.</p> +<p>“No more shouldst thou, for all the might<br /> +Of heart and hand that seals thee knight<br /> +Most noble of all that see the light,<br /> +Brother, hadst thou but slain in fight<br /> + Me, and arisen unscathed and whole,<br /> +As would to God thou hadst risen! though here<br /> +Light is as darkness, hope as fear,<br /> +And love as hate: and none draws near<br /> + Save toward a mortal goal.”</p> +<p>Then, fair as any poison-flower<br /> +Whose blossom blights the withering bower<br /> +Whereon its blasting breath has power,<br /> +Forth fared the lady of the tower<br /> + With many a lady and many a knight,<br /> +And came across the water-way<br /> +Even where on death’s dim border lay<br /> +Those brethren sent of her to slay<br /> + And die in kindless fight.</p> +<p>And all those hard light hearts were swayed<br /> +With pity passing like a shade<br /> +That stays not, and may be not stayed,<br /> +To hear the mutual moan they made,<br /> + Each to behold his brother die,<br /> +Saying, “Both we came out of one tomb,<br /> +One star-crossed mother’s woful womb,<br /> +And so within one grave-pit’s gloom<br /> + Untimely shall we lie.”</p> +<p>And Balan prayed, as God should bless<br /> +That lady for her gentleness,<br /> +That where the battle’s mortal stress<br /> +Had made for them perforce to press<br /> + The bed whence never man may rise<br /> +They twain, free now from hopes and fears,<br /> +Might sleep; and she, as one that hears,<br /> +Bowed her bright head: and very tears<br /> + Fell from her cold fierce eyes.</p> +<p>Then Balen prayed her send a priest<br /> +To housel them, that ere they ceased<br /> +The hansel of the heavenly feast<br /> +That fills with light from the answering east<br /> + The sunset of the life of man<br /> +Might bless them, and their lips be kissed<br /> +With death’s requickening eucharist,<br /> +And death’s and life’s dim sunlit mist<br /> + Pass as a stream that ran.</p> +<p>And so their dying rites were done:<br /> +And Balen, seeing the death-struck sun<br /> +Sink, spake as he whose goal is won:<br /> +“Now, when our trophied tomb is one,<br /> + And over us our tale is writ,<br /> +How two that loved each other, two<br /> +Born and begotten brethren, slew<br /> +Each other, none that reads anew<br /> + Shall choose but weep for it.</p> +<p>“And no good knight and no good man<br /> +Whose eye shall ever come to scan<br /> +The record of the imperious ban<br /> +That made our life so sad a span<br /> + Shall read or hear, who shall not pray<br /> +For us for ever.” Then anon<br /> +Died Balan; but the sun was gone,<br /> +And deep the stars of midnight shone,<br /> + Ere Balen passed away.</p> +<p>And there low lying, as hour on hour<br /> +Fled, all his life in all its flower<br /> +Came back as in a sunlit shower<br /> +Of dreams, when sweet-souled sleep has power<br /> + On life less sweet and glad to be.<br /> +He drank the draught of life’s first wine<br /> +Again: he saw the moorland shine,<br /> +The rioting rapids of the Tyne,<br /> + The woods, the cliffs, the sea.</p> +<p>The joy that lives at heart and home,<br /> +The joy to rest, the joy to roam,<br /> +The joy of crags and scaurs he clomb,<br /> +The rapture of the encountering foam<br /> + Embraced and breasted of the boy,<br /> +The first good steed his knees bestrode,<br /> +The first wild sound of songs that flowed<br /> +Through ears that thrilled and heart that glowed,<br /> + Fulfilled his death with joy.</p> +<p>So, dying not as a coward that dies<br /> +And dares not look in death’s dim eyes<br /> +Straight as the stars on seas and skies<br /> +Whence moon and sun recoil and rise,<br /> + He looked on life and death, and slept.<br /> +And there with morning Merlin came,<br /> +And on the tomb that told their fame<br /> +He wrote by Balan’s Balen’s name,<br /> + And gazed thereon, and wept.</p> +<p>For all his heart within him yearned<br /> +With pity like as fire that burned.<br /> +The fate his fateful eye discerned<br /> +Far off now dimmed it, ere he turned<br /> + His face toward Camelot, to tell<br /> +Arthur of all the storms that woke<br /> +Round Balen, and the dolorous stroke,<br /> +And how that last blind battle broke<br /> + The consummated spell.</p> +<p>“Alas,” King Arthur said, “this day<br /> +I have heard the worst that woe might say:<br /> +For in this world that wanes away<br /> +I know not two such knights as they.”<br /> + This is the tale that memory writes<br /> +Of men whose names like stars shall stand,<br /> +Balen and Balan, sure of hand,<br /> +Two brethren of Northumberland,<br /> + In life and death good knights.</p> 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Tale of Balen + + +Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne + + + +Release Date: December 24, 2008 [eBook #2136] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF BALEN*** + + +Transcribed from the 1896 Chatto & Windus edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + PRINTED BY + SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE + LONDON + + + + + + THE TALE OF BALEN + + + BY + ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE + + * * * * * + + LONDON + CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY + 1896 + + Copyright in the United States, 1896, by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS. + + + + +DEDICATION + + +TO MY MOTHER + + +Love that holds life and death in fee, +Deep as the clear unsounded sea +And sweet as life or death can be, +Lays here my hope, my heart, and me +Before you, silent, in a song. +Since the old wild tale, made new, found grace, +When half sung through, before your face, +It needs must live a springtide space, +While April suns grow strong. + +_March_ 24, 1896. + + + + +THE TALE OF BALEN + + +I + + +In hawthorn-time the heart grows light, +The world is sweet in sound and sight, +Glad thoughts and birds take flower and flight, +The heather kindles toward the light, + The whin is frankincense and flame. +And be it for strife or be it for love +The falcon quickens as the dove +When earth is touched from heaven above + With joy that knows no name. + +And glad in spirit and sad in soul +With dream and doubt of days that roll +As waves that race and find no goal +Rode on by bush and brake and bole + A northern child of earth and sea. +The pride of life before him lay +Radiant: the heavens of night and day +Shone less than shone before his way + His ways and days to be. + +And all his life of blood and breath +Sang out within him: time and death +Were even as words a dreamer saith +When sleep within him slackeneth, + And light and life and spring were one. +The steed between his knees that sprang, +The moors and woods that shone and sang, +The hours where through the spring's breath rang, + Seemed ageless as the sun. + +But alway through the bounteous bloom +That earth gives thanks if heaven illume +His soul forefelt a shadow of doom, +His heart foreknew a gloomier gloom + Than closes all men's equal ways, +Albeit the spirit of life's light spring +With pride of heart upheld him, king +And lord of hours like snakes that sting + And nights that darken days. + +And as the strong spring round him grew +Stronger, and all blithe winds that blew +Blither, and flowers that flowered anew +More glad of sun and air and dew, + The shadow lightened on his soul +And brightened into death and died +Like winter, as the bloom waxed wide +From woodside on to riverside + And southward goal to goal. + +Along the wandering ways of Tyne, +By beech and birch and thorn that shine +And laugh when life's requickening wine +Makes night and noon and dawn divine + And stirs in all the veins of spring, +And past the brightening banks of Tees, +He rode as one that breathes and sees +A sun more blithe, a merrier breeze, + A life that hails him king. + +And down the softening south that knows +No more how glad the heather glows, +Nor how, when winter's clarion blows +Across the bright Northumbrian snows, + Sea-mists from east and westward meet, +Past Avon senseless yet of song +And Thames that bore but swans in throng +He rode elate in heart and strong + In trust of days as sweet. + +So came he through to Camelot, +Glad, though for shame his heart waxed hot, +For hope within it withered not +To see the shaft it dreamed of shot + Fair toward the glimmering goal of fame, +And all King Arthur's knightliest there +Approved him knightly, swift to dare +And keen to bid their records bear + Sir Balen's northern name. + +Sir Balen of Northumberland +Gat grace before the king to stand +High as his heart was, and his hand +Wrought honour toward the strange north strand + That sent him south so goodly a knight. +And envy, sick with sense of sin, +Began as poisonous herbs begin +To work in base men's blood, akin + To men's of nobler might. + +And even so fell it that his doom, +For all his bright life's kindling bloom +And light that took no thought for gloom, +Fell as a breath from the opening tomb + Full on him ere he wist or thought. +For once a churl of royal seed, +King Arthur's kinsman, faint in deed +And loud in word that knew not heed, + Spake shame where shame was nought. + +"What doth one here in Camelot +Whose birth was northward? Wot we not +As all his brethren borderers wot +How blind of heart, how keen and hot, + The wild north lives and hates the south? +Men of the narrowing march that knows +Nought save the strength of storms and snows, +What would these carles where knighthood blows + A trump of kinglike mouth?" + +Swift from his place leapt Balen, smote +The liar across his face, and wrote +His wrath in blood upon the bloat +Brute cheek that challenged shame for note + How vile a king-born knave might be. +Forth sprang their swords, and Balen slew +The knave ere well one witness knew +Of all that round them stood or drew + What sight was there to see. + +Then spake the great king's wrathful will +A doom for six dark months to fill +Wherein close prison held him, still +And steadfast-souled for good or ill. + But when those weary days lay dead +His lordliest knights and barons spake +Before the king for Balen's sake +Good speech and wise, of force to break + The bonds that bowed his head. + + + +II + + +In linden-time the heart is high +For pride of summer passing by +With lordly laughter in her eye; +A heavy splendour in the sky + Uplifts and bows it down again. +The spring had waned from wood and wold +Since Balen left his prison hold +And lowlier-hearted than of old + Beheld it wax and wane. + +Though humble heart and poor array +Kept not from spirit and sense away +Their noble nature, nor could slay +The pride they bade but pause and stay + Till time should bring its trust to flower, +Yet even for noble shame's sake, born +Of hope that smiled on hate and scorn, +He held him still as earth ere morn + Ring forth her rapturous hour. + +But even as earth when dawn takes flight +And beats her wings of dewy light +Full in the faltering face of night, +His soul awoke to claim by right + The life and death of deed and doom, +When once before the king there came +A maiden clad with grief and shame +And anguish burning her like flame + That feeds on flowers in bloom. + +Beneath a royal mantle, fair +With goodly work of lustrous vair, +Girt fast against her side she bare +A sword whose weight bade all men there + Quail to behold her face again. +Save of a passing perfect knight +Not great alone in force and fight +It might not be for any might + Drawn forth, and end her pain. + +So said she: then King Arthur spake: +"Albeit indeed I dare not take +Such praise on me, for knighthood's sake +And love of ladies will I make + Assay if better none may be." +By girdle and by sheath he caught +The sheathed and girded sword, and wrought +With strength whose force availed him nought + To save and set her free. + +Again she spake: "No need to set +The might that man has matched not yet +Against it: he whose hand shall get +Grace to release the bonds that fret + My bosom and my girdlestead +With little strain of strength or strife +Shall bring me as from death to life +And win to sister or to wife + Fame that outlives men dead." + +Then bade the king his knights assay +This mystery that before him lay +And mocked his might of manhood. "Nay," +Quoth she, "the man that takes away + This burden laid on me must be +A knight of record clean and fair +As sunlight and the flowerful air, +By sire and mother born to bear + A name to shame not me." + +Then forth strode Launcelot, and laid +The mighty-moulded hand that made +Strong knights reel back like birds affrayed +By storm that smote them as they strayed + Against the hilt that yielded not. +Then Tristram, bright and sad and kind +As one that bore in noble mind +Love that made light as darkness blind, + Fared even as Launcelot. + +Then Lamoracke, with hardier cheer, +As one that held all hope and fear +Wherethrough the spirit of man may steer +In life and death less dark or dear, + Laid hand thereon, and fared as they. +With half a smile his hand he drew +Back from the spell-bound thing, and threw +With half a glance his heart anew + Toward no such blameless may. + +Between Iseult and Guenevere +Sat one of name as high to hear, +But darklier doomed than they whose cheer +Foreshowed not yet the deadlier year + That bids the queenliest head bow down, +The queen Morgause of Orkney: they +With scarce a flash of the eye could say +The very word of dawn, when day + Gives earth and heaven their crown. + +But bright and dark as night or noon +And lowering as a storm-flushed moon +When clouds and thwarting winds distune +The music of the midnight, soon + To die from darkening star to star +And leave a silence in the skies +That yearns till dawn find voice and rise, +Shone strange as fate Morgause, with eyes + That dwelt on days afar. + +A glance that shot on Lamoracke +As from a storm-cloud bright and black. +Fire swift and blind as death's own track +Turned fleet as flame on Arthur back + From him whose hand forsook the hilt: +And one in blood and one in sin +Their hearts caught fire of pain within +And knew no goal for them to win + But death that guerdons guilt. + +Then Gawain, sweet of soul and gay +As April ere he dreams of May, +Strove, and prevailed not: then Sir Kay, +The snake-souled envier, vile as they + That fawn and foam and lurk and lie, +Sire of the bastard band whose brood +Was alway found at servile feud +With honour, faint and false and lewd, + Scarce grasped and put it by. + +Then wept for woe the damsel bound +With iron and with anguish round, +That none to help her grief was found +Or loose the inextricably inwound + Grim curse that girt her life with grief +And made a burden of her breath, +Harsh as the bitterness of death. +Then spake the king as one that saith + Words bitterer even than brief. + +"Methought the wide round world could bring +Before the face of queen or king +No knights more fit for fame to sing +Than fill this full Round Table's ring + With honour higher than pride of place: +But now my heart is wrung to know, +Damsel, that none whom fame can show +Finds grace to heal or help thy woe: + God gives them not the grace." + +Then from the lowliest place thereby, +With heart-enkindled cheek and eye +Most like the star and kindling sky +That say the sundawn's hour is high + When rapture trembles through the sea, +Strode Balen in his poor array +Forth, and took heart of grace to pray +The damsel suffer even him to assay + His power to set her free. + +Nay, how should he avail, she said, +Averse with scorn-averted head, +Where these availed not? none had sped +Of all these mightier men that led + The lists wherein he might not ride, +And how should less men speed? But he, +With lordlier pride of courtesy, +Put forth his hand and set her free + From pain and humbled pride. + +But on the sword he gazed elate +With hope set higher than fear or fate, +Or doubt of darkling days in wait; +And when her thankful praise waxed great + And craved of him the sword again, +He would not give it. "Nay, for mine +It is till force may make it thine." +A smile that shone as death may shine + Spake toward him bale and bane. + +Strange lightning flickered from her eyes. +"Gentle and good in knightliest guise +And meet for quest of strange emprise +Thou hast here approved thee: yet not wise + To keep the sword from me, I wis. +For with it thou shalt surely slay +Of all that look upon the day +The man best loved of thee, and lay + Thine own life down for his." + +"What chance God sends, that chance I take," +He said. Then soft and still she spake; +"I would but for thine only sake +Have back the sword of thee, and break + The links of doom that bind thee round. +But seeing thou wilt not have it so, +My heart for thine is wrung with woe." +"God's will," quoth he, "it is, we know, + Wherewith our lives are bound." + +"Repent it must thou soon," she said, +"Who wouldst not hear the rede I read +For thine and not for my sake, sped +In vain as waters heavenward shed + From springs that falter and depart +Earthward. God bids not thee believe +Truth, and the web thy life must weave +For even this sword to close and cleave + Hangs heavy round my heart." + +So passed she mourning forth. But he, +With heart of springing hope set free +As birds that breast and brave the sea, +Bade horse and arms and armour be + Made straightway ready toward the fray. +Nor even might Arthur's royal prayer +Withhold him, but with frank and fair +Thanksgiving and leave-taking there + He turned him thence away. + + + +III + + +As the east wind, when the morning's breast +Gleams like a bird's that leaves the nest, +A fledgeling halcyon's bound on quest, +Drives wave on wave on wave to west + Till all the sea be life and light, +So time's mute breath, that brings to bloom +All flowers that strew the dead spring's tomb, +Drives day on day on day to doom + Till all man's day be night. + +Brief as the breaking of a wave +That hurls on man his thunderous grave +Ere fear find breath to cry or crave +Life that no chance may spare or save, + The light of joy and glory shone +Even as in dreams where death seems dead +Round Balen's hope-exalted head, +Shone, passed, and lightened as it fled + The shadow of doom thereon. + +For as he bound him thence to fare, +Before the stately presence there +A lady like a windflower fair, +Girt on with raiment strange and rare + That rippled whispering round her, came. +Her clear cold eyes, all glassy grey, +Seemed lit not with the light of day +But touched with gleams that waned away + Of quelled and fading flame. + +Before the king she bowed and spake: +"King, for thine old faith's plighted sake +To me the lady of the lake, +I come in trust of thee to take + The guerdon of the gift I gave, +Thy sword Excalibur." And he +Made answer: "Be it whate'er it be, +If mine to give, I give it thee, + Nor need is thine to crave." + +As when a gleam of wicked light +Turns half a low-lying water bright +That moans beneath the shivering night +With sense of evil sound and sight + And whispering witchcraft's bated breath, +Her wan face quickened as she said: +"This knight that won the sword--his head +I crave or hers that brought it. Dead, + Let these be one in death." + +"Not with mine honour this may be; +Ask all save this thou wilt," quoth he, +"And have thy full desire." But she +Made answer: "Nought will I of thee, + Nought if not this." Then Balen turned, +And saw the sorceress hard beside +By whose fell craft his mother died: +Three years he had sought her, and here espied + His heart against her yearned. + +"Ill be thou met," he said, "whose ire +Would slake with blood thy soul's desire: +By thee my mother died in fire; +Die thou by me a death less dire." + Sharp flashed his sword forth, fleet as flame, +And shore away her sorcerous head. +"Alas for shame," the high king said, +"That one found once my friend lies dead; + Alas for all our shame! + +"Thou shouldst have here forborne her; yea, +Were all the wrongs that bid men slay +Thine, heaped too high for wrath to weigh, +Not here before my face today + Was thine the right to wreak thy wrong." +Still stood he then as one that found +His rose of hope by storm discrowned, +And all the joy that girt him round + Brief as a broken song. + +Yet ere he passed he turned and spake: +"King, only for thy nobler sake +Than aught of power man's power may take +Or pride of place that pride may break + I bid the lordlier man in thee, +That lives within the king, give ear. +This justice done before thee here +On one that hell's own heart holds dear, + Needs might not this but be. + +"Albeit, for all that pride would prove, +My heart be wrung to lose thy love, +It yet repents me not hereof: +So many an eagle and many a dove, + So many a knight, so many a may, +This water-snake of poisonous tongue +To death by words and wiles hath stung, +That her their slayer, from hell's lake sprung, + I did not ill to slay." + +"Yea," said the king, "too high of heart +To stand before a king thou art; +Yet irks it me to bid thee part +And take thy penance for thy part, + That God may put upon thy pride." +Then Balen took the severed head +And toward his hostry turned and sped +As one that knew not quick from dead + Nor good from evil tide. + +He bade his squire before him stand +And take that sanguine spoil in hand +And bear it far by shore and strand +Till all in glad Northumberland + That loved him, seeing it, all might know +His deadliest foe was dead, and hear +How free from prison as from fear +He dwelt in trust of the answering year + To bring him weal for woe. + +"And tell them, now I take my way +To meet in battle, if I may, +King Ryons of North Wales, and slay +That king of kernes whose fiery sway + Doth all the marches dire despite +That serve King Arthur: so shall he +Again be gracious lord to me, +And I that leave thee meet with thee + Once more in Arthur's sight." + +So spake he ere they parted, nor +Took shame or fear to counsellor, +As one whom none laid ambush for; +And wist not how Sir Launceor, + The wild king's son of Ireland, hot +And high in wrath to know that one +Stood higher in fame before the sun, +Even Balen, since the sword was won, + Drew nigh from Camelot. + +For thence, in heat of hate and pride, +As one that man might bid not bide, +He craved the high king's grace to ride +On quest of Balen far and wide + And wreak the wrong his wrath had wrought. +"Yea," Arthur said, "for such despite +Was done me never in my sight +As this thine hand shall now requite + If trust avail us aught." + +But ere he passed, in eager mood +To feed his hate with bitter food, +Before the king's face Merlin stood +And heard his tale of ill and good, + Of Balen, and the sword achieved, +And whence it smote as heaven's red ire +That direful dame of doom as dire; +And how the king's wrath turned to fire + The grief wherewith he grieved. + +And darkening as he gave it ear, +The still face of the sacred seer +Waxed wan with wrath and not with fear, +And ever changed its cloudier cheer + Till all his face was very night. +"This damosel that brought the sword," +He said, "before the king my lord, +And all these knights about his board, + Hath done them all despite. + +"The falsest damosel she is +That works men ill on earth, I wis, +And all her mind is toward but this, +To kill as with a lying kiss + Truth, and the life of noble trust. +A brother hath she,--see but now +The flame of shame that brands her brow!-- +A true man, pure as faith's own vow, + Whose honour knows not rust. + +"This good knight found within her bower +A felon and her paramour, +And slew him in his shameful hour, +As right gave might and righteous power + To hands that wreaked so foul a wrong. +Then, for the hate her heart put on, +She sought by ways where death had gone +The lady Lyle of Avalon, + Whose crafts are strange and strong. + +"The sorceress, one with her in thought, +Gave her that sword of magic, wrought +By charms whereof sweet heaven sees nought, +That hither girt on her she brought + To be by doom her brother's bane. +And grief it is to think how he +That won it, being of heart so free +And perfect found in chivalry, + Shall by that sword lie slain. + +Great pity it is and strange despite +That one whose eyes are stars to light +Honour, and shine as heaven's own height, +Should perish, being the goodliest knight + That even the all-glorious north has borne. +Nor shall my lord the king behold +A lordlier friend of mightier mould +Than Balen, though his tale be told + Ere noon fulfil his morn." + + + +IV + + +As morning hears before it run +The music of the mounting sun, +And laughs to watch his trophies won +From darkness, and her hosts undone, + And all the night become a breath, +Nor dreams that fear should hear and flee +The summer menace of the sea, +So hears our hope what life may be, + And knows it not for death. + +Each day that slays its hours and dies +Weeps, laughs, and lightens on our eyes, +And sees and hears not: smiles and sighs +As flowers ephemeral fall and rise + About its birth, about its way, +And pass as love and sorrow pass, +As shadows flashing down a glass, +As dew-flowers blowing in flowerless grass, + As hope from yesterday. + +The blossom of the sunny dew +That now the stronger sun strikes through +Fades off the blade whereon it blew +No fleetlier than the flowers that grew + On hope's green stem in life's fierce light. +Nor might the glory soon to sit +Awhile on Balen's crest alit +Outshine the shadow of doom on it + Or stay death's wings from flight. + +Dawn on a golden moorland side +By holt and heath saw Balen ride +And Launceor after, pricked with pride +And stung with spurring envy: wide + And far he had ridden athwart strange lands +And sought amiss the man he found +And cried on, till the stormy sound +Rang as a rallying trumpet round + That fires men's hearts and hands. + +Abide he bade him: nor was need +To bid when Balen wheeled his steed +Fiercely, less fain by word than deed +To bid his envier evil speed, + And cried, "What wilt thou with me?" Loud +Rang Launceor's vehement answer: "Knight, +To avenge on thee the dire despite +Thou hast done us all in Arthur's sight + I stand toward Arthur vowed." + +"Ay?" Balen said: "albeit I see +I needs must deal in strife with thee, +Light is the wyte thou layest on me; +For her I slew and sinned not, she + Was dire in all men's eyes as death, +Or none were lother found than I +By me to bid a woman die: +As lief were loyal men to lie, + Or scorn what honour saith." + +As the arched wave's weight against the reef +Hurls, and is hurled back like a leaf +Storm-shrivelled, and its rage of grief +Speaks all the loud broad sea in brief, + And quells the hearkening hearts of men, +Or as the crash of overfalls +Down under blue smooth water brawls +Like jarring steel on ruining walls, + So rang their meeting then. + +As wave on wave shocks, and confounds +The bounding bulk whereon it bounds +And breaks and shattering seaward sounds +As crying of the old sea's wolves and hounds + That moan and ravin and rage and wail, +So steed on steed encountering sheer +Shocked, and the strength of Launceor's spear +Shivered on Balen's shield, and fear + Bade hope within him quail. + +But Balen's spear through Launceor's shield +Clove as a ploughshare cleaves the field +And pierced the hauberk triple-steeled, +That horse with horseman stricken reeled, + And as a storm-breached rock falls, fell. +And Balen turned his horse again +And wist not yet his foe lay slain, +And saw him dead that sought his bane + And wrought and fared not well. + +Suddenly, while he gazed and stood, +And mused in many-minded mood +If life or death were evil or good, +Forth of a covert of a wood + That skirted half the moorland lea +Fast rode a maiden flower-like white +Full toward that fair wild place of fight, +Anhungered of the woful sight + God gave her there to see. + +And seeing the man there fallen and dead, +She cried against the sun that shed +Light on the living world, and said, +"O Balen, slayer whose hand is red, + Two bodies and one heart thou hast slain, +Two hearts within one body: aye, +Two souls thou hast lost; by thee they die, +Cast out of sight of earth and sky + And all that made them fain." + +And from the dead his sword she caught, +And fell in trance that wist of nought, +Swooning: but softly Balen sought +To win from her the sword she thought + To die on, dying by Launceor's side. +Again her wakening wail outbroke +As wildly, sword in hand, she woke +And struck one swift and bitter stroke + That healed her, and she died. + +And sorrowing for their strange love's sake +Rode Balen forth by lawn and lake, +By moor and moss and briar and brake, +And in his heart their sorrow spake + Whose lips were dumb as death, and said +Mute words of presage blind and vain +As rain-stars blurred and marred by rain +To wanderers on a moonless main + Where night and day seem dead. + +Then toward a sunbright wildwood side +He looked and saw beneath it ride +A knight whose arms afar espied +By note of name and proof of pride + Bare witness of his brother born, +His brother Balan, hard at hand, +Twin flower of bright Northumberland, +Twin sea-bird of their loud sea-strand, + Twin song-bird of their morn. + +Ah then from Balen passed away +All dread of night, all doubt of day, +All care what life or death might say, +All thought of all worse months than May: + Only the might of joy in love +Brake forth within him as a fire, +And deep delight in deep desire +Of far-flown days whose full-souled quire + Rang round from the air above. + +From choral earth and quiring air +Rang memories winged like songs that bear +Sweet gifts for spirit and sense to share: +For no man's life knows love more fair + And fruitful of memorial things +Than this the deep dear love that breaks +With sense of life on life, and makes +The sundawn sunnier as it wakes + Where morning round it rings. + +"O brother, O my brother!" cried +Each upon each, and cast aside +Their helms unbraced that might not hide +From sight of memory single-eyed + The likeness graven of face and face, +And kissed and wept upon each other +For joy and pity of either brother, +And love engrafted by sire and mother, + God's natural gift of grace. + +And each with each took counsel meet +For comfort, making sorrow sweet, +And grief a goodly thing to greet: +And word from word leapt light and fleet + Till all the venturous tale was told, +And how in Balen's hope it lay +To meet the wild Welsh king and slay, +And win from Arthur back for pay + The grace he gave of old. + +"And thither will not thou with me +And win as great a grace for thee?" +"That will I well," quoth Balan: "we +Will cleave together, bound and free, + As brethren should, being twain and one." +But ere they parted thence there came +A creature withered as with flame, +A dwarf mismade in nature's shame, + Between them and the sun. + +And riding fleet as fire may glide +He found the dead lie side by side, +And wailed and rent his hair and cried, +"Who hath done this deed?" And Balen eyed + The strange thing loathfully, and said, +"The knight I slew, who found him fain +And keen to slay me: seeing him slain, +The maid I sought to save in vain, + Self-stricken, here lies dead. + +"Sore grief was mine to see her die, +And for her true faith's sake shall I +Love, and with love of heart more high, +All women better till I die." + "Alas," the dwarf said, "ill for thee +In evil hour this deed was done: +For now the quest shall be begun +Against thee, from the dawning sun + Even to the sunset sea. + +"From shore to mountain, dawn to night, +The kinsfolk of this great dead knight +Will chase thee to thy death." A light +Of swift blithe scorn flashed answer bright + As fire from Balen's eye. "For that, +Small fear shall fret my heart," quoth he: +"But that my lord the king should be +For this dead man's sake wroth with me, + Weep might it well thereat." + +Then murmuring passed the dwarf away, +And toward the knights in fair array +Came riding eastward up the way +From where the flower-soft lowlands lay + A king whose name the sweet south-west +Held high in honour, and the land +That bowed beneath his gentle hand +Wore on its wild bright northern strand + Tintagel for a crest. + +And Balen hailed with homage due +King Mark of Cornwall, when he knew +The pennon that before him flew: +And for those lovers dead and true + The king made moan to hear their doom; +And for their sorrow's sake he sware +To seek in all the marches there +The church that man might find most fair + And build therein their tomb. + + + +V + + +As thought from thought takes wing and flies, +As month on month with sunlit eyes +Tramples and triumphs in its rise, +As wave smites wave to death and dies, + So chance on hurtling chance like steel +Strikes, flashes, and is quenched, ere fear +Can whisper hope, or hope can hear, +If sorrow or joy be far or near + For time to hurt or heal. + +Swift as a shadow and strange as light +That cleaves in twain the shadow of night +Before the wide-winged word takes flight +That thunder speaks to depth and height + And quells the quiet hour with sound, +There came before King Mark and stood +Between the moorside and the wood +The man whose word God's will made good, + Nor guile was in it found. + +And Merlin said to Balen: "Lo, +Thou hast wrought thyself a grievous woe +To let this lady die, and know +Thou mightst have stayed her deadly blow." + And Balen answered him and said, +"Nay, by my truth to faith, not I, +So fiercely fain she was to die; +Ere well her sword had flashed on high, + Self-slain she lay there dead." + +Again and sadly Merlin spake: +"My heart is wrung for this deed's sake, +To know thee therefore doomed to take +Upon thine hand a curse, and make + Three kingdoms pine through twelve years' change, +In want and woe: for thou shalt smite +The man most noble and truest knight +That looks upon the live world's light + A dolorous stroke and strange. + +"And not till years shall round their goal +May this man's wound thou hast given be whole." +And Balen, stricken through the soul +By dark-winged words of doom and dole, + Made answer: "If I wist it were +No lie but sooth thou sayest of me, +Then even to make a liar of thee +Would I too slay myself, and see + How death bids dead men fare." + +And Merlin took his leave and passed +And was not: and the shadow as fast +Went with him that his word had cast, +Too fleet for thought thereof to last: + And there those brethren bade King Mark +Farewell: but fain would Mark have known +The strong knight's name who had overthrown +The pride of Launceor, when it shone + Bright as it now lay dark. + +And Balan for his brother spake, +Saying: "Sir, albeit him list not break +The seal of secret time, nor shake +Night off him ere his morning wake, + By these two swords he is girt withal +May men that praise him, knights and lords, +Call him the knight that bears two swords, +And all the praise his fame accords + Make answer when they call." + +So parted they toward eventide; +And tender twilight, heavy-eyed, +Saw deep down glimmering woodlands ride +Balen and Balan side by side, + Till where the leaves grew dense and dim +Again they spied from far draw near +The presence of the sacred seer, +But so disguised and strange of cheer + That seeing they knew not him. + +"Now whither ride ye," Merlin said, +"Through shadows that the sun strikes red, +Ere night be born or day be dead?" +But they, for doubt half touched with dread, + Would say not where their goal might lie. +"And thou," said Balen, "what art thou, +To walk with shrouded eye and brow?" +He said: "Me lists not show thee now + By name what man am I." + +"Ill seen is this of thee," said they, +"That thou art true in word and way +Nor fain to fear the face of day, +Who wilt not as a true man say + The name it shames not him to bear." +He answered: "Be it or be it not so, +Yet why ye ride this way I know, +To meet King Ryons as a foe, + And how your hope shall fare. + +"Well, if ye hearken toward my rede, +Ill, if ye hear not, shall ye speed." +"Ah, now," they cried, "thou art ours at need +What Merlin saith we are fain to heed." + "Great worship shall ye win," said he, +"And look that ye do knightly now, +For great shall be your need, I trow." +And Balen smiled: "By knighthood's vow, + The best we may will we." + +Then Merlin bade them turn and take +Rest, for their good steeds' weary sake, +Between the highway and the brake, +Till starry midnight bade them wake: + Then "Rise," he said, "the king is nigh, +Who hath stolen from all his host away +With threescore horse in armed array, +The goodliest knights that bear his sway + And hold his kingdom high. + +"And twenty ride of them before +To bear his errand, ere the door +Turn of the night, sealed fast no more, +And sundawn bid the stars wax hoar; + For by the starshine of to-night +He seeks a leman where she waits +His coming, dark and swift as fate's, +And hearkens toward the unopening gates + That yield not him to sight. + +Then through the glimmering gloom around +A shadowy sense of light and sound +Made, ere the proof thereof were found, +The brave blithe hearts within them bound, + And "Where," quoth Balen, "rides the king?" +But softer spake the seer: "Abide, +Till hither toward your spears he ride, +Where all the narrowing woodland side + Grows dense with boughs that cling." + +There in that straitening way they met +The wild Welsh host against them set, +And smote their strong king down, ere yet +His hurrying horde of spears might get + Fierce vantage of them. Then the fight +Grew great and joyous as it grew, +For left and right those brethren slew, +Till all the lawn waxed red with dew + More deep than dews of night. + +And ere the full fierce tale was read +Full forty lay before them dead, +And fast the hurtling remnant fled +And wist not whither fear had led: + And toward the king they went again, +And would have slain him: but he bowed +Before them, crying in fear aloud +For grace they gave him, seeing the proud + Wild king brought lowest of men. + +And ere the wildwood leaves were stirred +With song or wing of wakening bird, +In Camelot was Merlin's word +With joy in joyous wonder heard + That told of Arthur's bitterest foe +Diskingdomed and discomfited. +"By whom?" the high king smiled and said. +He answered: "Ere the dawn wax red, + To-morrow bids you know. + +"Two knights whose heart and hope are one +And fain to win your grace have done +This work whereby if grace be won +Their hearts shall hail the enkindling sun + With joy more keen and deep than day." +And ere the sundawn drank the dew +Those brethren with their prisoner drew +To the outer guard they gave him to + And passed again away. + +And Arthur came as toward his guest +To greet his foe, and bade him rest +As one returned from nobler quest +And welcome from the stormbright west, + But by what chance he fain would hear. +"The chance was hard and strange, sir king," +Quoth Ryons, bowed in thanksgiving. +"Who won you?" Arthur said: "the thing + Is worth a warrior's ear." + +The wild king flushed with pride and shame, +Answering: "I know not either name +Of those that there against us came +And withered all our strength like flame: + The knight that bears two swords is one, +And one his brother: not on earth +May men meet men of knightlier worth +Nor mightier born of mortal birth + That hail the sovereign sun." + +And Arthur said: "I know them not +But much am I for this, God wet, +Beholden to them: Launcelot +Nor Tristram, when the war waxed hot + Along the marches east and west, +Wrought ever nobler work than this." +"Ah," Merlin said, "sore pity it is +And strange mischance of doom, I wis, + That death should mar their quest. + +"Balen, the perfect knight that won +The sword whose name is malison, +And made his deed his doom, is one: +Nor hath his brother Balan done + Less royal service: not on earth +Lives there a nobler knight, more strong +Of soul to win men's praise in song, +Albeit the light abide not long + That lightened round his birth. + +"Yea, and of all sad things I know +The heaviest and the highest in woe +Is this, the doom whose date brings low +Too soon in timeless overthrow + A head so high, a hope so sure. +The greatest moan for any knight +That ever won fair fame in fight +Shall be for Balen, seeing his might + Must now not long endure." + +"Alas," King Arthur said, "he hath shown +Such love to me-ward that the moan +Made of him should be mine alone +Above all other, knowing it known + I have ill deserved it of him." "Nay," +Said Merlin, "he shall do for you +Much more, when time shall be anew, +Than time hath given him chance to do + Or hope may think to say. + +"But now must be your powers purveyed +To meet, ere noon of morn be made +To-morrow, all the host arrayed +Of this wild foe's wild brother, laid + Around against you: see to it well, +For now I part from you." And soon, +When sundawn slew the withering moon, +Two hosts were met to win the boon + Whose tale is death's to tell. + +A lordly tale of knights and lords +For death to tell by count of swords +When war's wild harp in all its chords +Rang royal triumph, and the hordes + Of hurtling foemen rocked and reeled +As waves wind-thwarted on the sea, +Was told of all that there might be, +Till scarce might battle hear or see + The fortune of the field. + +And many a knight won fame that day +When even the serpent soul of Kay +Was kindled toward the fiery play +As might a lion's be for prey, + And won him fame that might not die +With passing of his rancorous breath +But clung about his life and death +As fire that speaks in cloud, and saith + What strong men hear and fly. + +And glorious works were Arthur's there, +That lit the battle-darkened air: +But when they saw before them fare +Like stars of storm the knight that bare + Two swords about him girt for fray, +Balen, and Balan with him, then +Strong wonder smote the souls of men +If heaven's own host or hell's deep den + Had sent them forth to slay. + +So keen they rode across the fight, +So sharp they smote to left and right, +And made of hurtling darkness light +With lightning of their swords, till flight + And fear before them flew like flame, +That Arthur's self had never known, +He said, since first his blast was blown, +Such lords of war as these alone + That whence he knew not came. + +But while the fire of war waxed hot +The wild king hearkened, hearing not, +Through storm of spears and arrow-shot, +For succour toward him from King Lot + And all his host of sea-born men, +Strong as the strong storm-baffling bird +Whose cry round Orkney's headlands heard +Is as the sea's own sovereign word + That mocks our mortal ken. + +For Merlin's craft of prophecy, +Who wist that one of twain must die, +Put might in him to say thereby +Which head should lose its crown, and lie + Stricken, though loth he were to know +That either life should wane and fail; +Yet most might Arthur's love avail, +And still with subtly tempered tale + His wile held fast the foe. + +With woven words of magic might +Wherein the subtle shadow and light +Changed hope and fear till fear took flight, +He stayed King Lot's fierce lust of fight + Till all the wild Welsh war was driven +As foam before the wind that wakes +With the all-awakening sun, and breaks +Strong ships that rue the mirth it makes + When grace to slay is given. + +And ever hotter lit and higher, +As fire that meets encountering fire, +Waxed in King Lot his keen desire +To bid revenge within him tire + On Arthur's ravaged fame and life: +Across the waves of war between +Floated and flashed, unseen and seen, +The lustrous likeness of the queen + Whom shame had sealed his wife. + +But when the woful word was brought +That while he tarried, doubting nought, +The hope was lost whose goal he sought +And all the fight he yearned for fought, + His heart was rent for grief and shame, +And half his hope was set on flight +Till word was given him of a knight +Who said: "They are weary and worn with fight, + And we more fresh than flame." + +And bright and dark as night and day +Ere either find the unopening way +Clear, and forego the unaltering sway, +The sad king's face shone, frowning: "Yea, + I would that every knight of mine +Would do his part as I shall do," +He said, "till death or life anew +Shall judge between us as is due + With wiser doom than thine." + +Then thundered all the awakening field +With crash of hosts that clashed and reeled, +Banner to banner, shield to shield, +And spear to splintering spear-shaft, steeled + As heart against high heart of man, +As hope against high hope of knight +To pluck the crest and crown of fight +From war's clenched hand by storm's wild light, + For blessing given or ban. + +All hearts of hearkening men that heard +The ban twin-born with blessing, stirred +Like springtide waters, knew the word +Whereby the steeds of storm are spurred + With ravenous rapture to destroy, +And laughed for love of battle, pierced +With passion of tempestuous thirst +And hungering hope to assuage it first + With draughts of stormy joy. + +But sheer ahead of the iron tide +That rocked and roared from side to side +Rode as the lightning's lord might ride +King Lot, whose heart was set to abide + All peril of the raging hour, +And all his host of warriors born +Where lands by warring seas are worn +Was only by his hands upborne + Who gave them pride and power. + +But as the sea's hand smites the shore +And shatters all the strengths that bore +The ravage earth may bear no more, +So smote the hand of Pellinore + Charging, a knight of Arthur's chief, +And clove his strong steed's neck in twain, +And smote him sheer through brow and brain, +Falling: and there King Lot lay slain, + And knew not wrath or grief. + +And all the host of Orkney fled, +And many a mother's son lay dead: +But when they raised the stricken head +Whence pride and power and shame were fled + And rage and anguish now cast out, +And bore it toward a kingly tomb, +The wife whose love had wrought his doom +Came thither, fair as morning's bloom + And dark as twilight's doubt. + +And there her four strong sons and his, +Gawain and Gareth, Gaherys +And Agravain, whose sword's sharp kiss +With sound of hell's own serpent's hiss + Should one day turn her life to death, +Stood mourning with her: but by these +Seeing Mordred as a seer that sees, +Anguish of terror bent her knees + And caught her shuddering breath. + +The splendour of her sovereign eyes +Flashed darkness deeper than the skies +Feel or fear when the sunset dies +On his that felt as midnight rise + Their doom upon them, there undone +By faith in fear ere thought could yield +A shadowy sense of days revealed, +The ravin of the final field, + The terror of their son. + +For Arthur's, as they caught the light +That sought and durst not seek his sight, +Darkened, and all his spirit's might +Withered within him even as night + Withers when sunrise thrills the sea. +But Mordred's lightened as with fire +That smote his mother and his sire +With darkling doom and deep desire + That bade its darkness be. + +And heavier on their hearts the weight +Sank of the fear that brings forth fate, +The bitter doubt whose womb is great +With all the grief and love and hate + That turn to fire men's days on earth. +And glorious was the funeral made, +And dark the deepening dread that swayed +Their darkening souls whose light grew shade + With sense of death in birth. + + + +VI + + +In autumn, when the wind and sea +Rejoice to live and laugh to be, +And scarce the blast that curbs the tree +And bids before it quail and flee + The fiery foliage, where its brand +Is radiant as the seal of spring, +Sounds less delight, and waves a wing +Less lustrous, life's loud thanksgiving + Puts life in sea and land. + +High hope in Balen's heart alight +Laughed, as from all that clamorous fight +He passed and sought not Arthur's sight, +Who fain had found his kingliest knight + And made amend for Balen's wrong. +But Merlin gave his soul to see +Fate, rising as a shoreward sea, +And all the sorrow that should be + Ere hope or fear thought long. + +"O where are they whose hands upbore +My battle," Arthur said, "before +The wild Welsh host's wide rage and roar? +Balen and Balan, Pellinore, + Where are they?" Merlin answered him: +"Balen shall be not long away +From sight of you, but night nor day +Shall bring his brother back to say + If life burn bright or dim." + +"Now, by my faith," said Arthur then, +"Two marvellous knights are they, whose ken +Toward battle makes the twain as ten, +And Balen most of all born men + Passeth of prowess all I know +Or ever found or sought to see: +Would God he would abide with me, +To face the times foretold of thee + And all the latter woe." + +For there had Merlin shown the king +The doom that songs unborn should sing, +The gifts that time should rise and bring +Of blithe and bitter days to spring + As weeds and flowers against the sun. +And on the king for fear's sake fell +Sickness, and sorrow deep as hell, +Nor even might sleep bid fear farewell + If grace to sleep were won. + +Down in a meadow green and still +He bade the folk that wrought his will +Pitch his pavilion, where the chill +Soft night would let not rest fulfil + His heart wherein dark fears lay deep. +And sharp against his hearing cast +Came a sound as of horsehoofs fast +Passing, that ere their sound were past + Aroused him as from sleep. + +And forth he looked along the grass +And saw before his portal pass +A knight that wailed aloud, "Alas +That life should find this dolorous pass + And find no shield from doom and dole!" +And hearing all his moan, "Abide, +Fair sir," the king arose and cried, +"And say what sorrow bids you ride + So sorrowful of soul." + +"My hurt may no man heal, God wot, +And help of man may speed me not," +The sad knight said, "nor change my lot." +And toward the castle of Melyot + Whose towers arose a league away +He passed forth sorrowing: and anon, +Ere well the woful sight were gone, +Came Balen down the meads that shone, + Strong, bright, and brave as day. + +And seeing the king there stand, the knight +Drew rein before his face to alight +In reverence made for love's sake bright +With joy that set his face alight + As theirs who see, alive, above, +The sovereign of their souls, whose name +To them is even as love's own flame +To enkindle hope that heeds not fame + And knows no lord but love. + +And Arthur smiled on him, and said, +"Right welcome be thou: by my head, +I would not wish me better sped. +For even but now there came and fled + Before me like a cloud that flies +A knight that made most heavy cheer, +I know not wherefore; nor may fear +Or pity give my heart to hear + Or lighten on mine eyes. + +"But even for fear's and pity's sake +Fain were I thou shouldst overtake +And fetch again this knight that spake +No word of answering grace to make + Reply to mine that hailed him: thou, +By force or by goodwill, shalt bring +His face before me." "Yea, my king," +Quoth Balen, "and a greater thing + Were less than is my vow. + +"I would the task required and heard +Were heavier than your sovereign word +Hath laid on me:" and thence he spurred +Elate at heart as youth, and stirred + With hope as blithe as fires a boy: +And many a mile he rode, and found +Far in a forest's glimmering bound +The man he sought afar around + And seeing took fire for joy. + +And with him went a maiden, fair +As flowers aflush with April air. +And Balen bade him turn him there +To tell the king what woes they were + That bowed him down so sore: and he +Made woeful answer: "This should do +Great scathe to me, with nought for you +Of help that hope might hearken to + For boot that may not be." + +And Balen answered: "I were loth +To fight as one perforce made wroth +With one that owes by knighthood's oath +One love, one service, and one troth + With me to him whose gracious hand +Holds fast the helm of knighthood here +Whereby man's hope and heart may steer: +I pray you let not sorrow or fear + Against his bidding stand." + +The strange knight gazed on him, and spake: +"Will you, for Arthur's royal sake, +Be warrant for me that I take +No scathe from strife that man may make? + Then will I go with you." And he +Made joyous answer: "Yea, for I +Will be your warrant or will die." +And thence they rode with hearts as high + As men's that search the sea. + +And as by noon's large light the twain +Before the tented hall drew rein, +Suddenly fell the strange knight, slain +By one that came and went again + And none might see him; but his spear +Clove through the body, swift as fire, +The man whose doom, forefelt as dire, +Had darkened all his life's desire, + As one that death held dear. + +And dying he turned his face and said, +"Lo now thy warrant that my head +Should fall not, following forth where led +A knight whose pledge hath left me dead. + This darkling manslayer hath to name +Garlon: take thou my goodlier steed, +Seeing thine is less of strength and speed, +And ride, if thou be knight indeed, + Even thither whence we came. + +"And as the maiden's fair behest +Shall bid you follow on my quest, +Follow: and when God's will sees best, +Revenge my death, and let me rest + As one that lived and died a knight, +Unstained of shame alive or dead." +And Balen, wrung with sorrow, said, +"That shall I do: my hand and head + I pledge to do you right." + +And thence with sorrowing heart and cheer +He rode, in grief that cast out fear +Lest death in darkness yet were near, +And bore the truncheon of the spear + Wherewith the woful knight lay slain +To her with whom he rode, and she +Still bare it with her, fain to see +What righteous doom of God's might be + The darkling manslayer's bane. + +And down a dim deep woodland way +They rode between the boughs asway +With flickering winds whose flash and play +Made sunlight sunnier where the day + Laughed, leapt, and fluttered like a bird +Caught in a light loose leafy net +That earth for amorous heaven had set +To hold and see the sundawn yet + And hear what morning heard. + +There in the sweet soft shifting light +Across their passage rode a knight +Flushed hot from hunting as from fight, +And seeing the sorrow-stricken sight + Made question of them why they rode +As mourners sick at heart and sad, +When all alive about them bade +Sweet earth for heaven's sweet sake be glad + As heaven for earth's love glowed. + +"Me lists not tell you," Balen said. +The strange knight's face grew keen and red +"Now, might my hand but keep my head, +Even here should one of twain lie dead + Were he no better armed than I." +And Balen spake with smiling speed, +Where scorn and courtesy kept heed +Of either: "That should little need: + Not here shall either die." + +And all the cause he told him through +As one that feared not though he knew +All: and the strange knight spake anew, +Saying: "I will part no more from you + While life shall last me." So they went +Where he might arm himself to ride, +And rode across wild ways and wide +To where against a churchyard side + A hermit's harbour leant. + +And there against them riding came +Fleet as the lightning's laugh and flame +The invisible evil, even the same +They sought and might not curse by name + As hell's foul child on earth set free, +And smote the strange knight through, and fled, +And left the mourners by the dead. +"Alas, again," Sir Balen said, + "This wrong he hath done to me." + +And there they laid their dead to sleep +Royally, lying where wild winds keep +Keen watch and wail more soft and deep +Than where men's choirs bid music weep + And song like incense heave and swell. +And forth again they rode, and found +Before them, dire in sight and sound, +A castle girt about and bound + With sorrow like a spell. + +Above it seemed the sun at noon +Sad as a wintry withering moon +That shudders while the waste wind's tune +Craves ever none may guess what boon, + But all may know the boon for dire. +And evening on its darkness fell +More dark than very death's farewell, +And night about it hung like hell, + Whose fume the dawn made fire. + +And Balen lighted down and passed +Within the gateway, whence no blast +Rang as the sheer portcullis, cast +Suddenly down, fell, and made fast + The gate behind him, whence he spied +A sudden rage of men without +And ravin of a murderous rout +That girt the maiden hard about + With death on either side. + +And seeing that shame and peril, fear +Bade wrath and grief awake and hear +What shame should say in fame's wide ear +If she, by sorrow sealed more dear + Than joy might make her, so should die: +And up the tower's curled stair he sprang +As one that flies death's deadliest fang, +And leapt right out amid their gang + As fire from heaven on high. + +And they thereunder seeing the knight +Unhurt among their press alight +And bare his sword for chance of fight +Stood from him, loth to strive or smite, + And bade him hear their woful word, +That not the maiden's death they sought; +But there through years too dire for thought +Had lain their lady stricken, and nought + Might heal her: and he heard. + +For there a maiden clean and whole +In virgin body and virgin soul, +Whose name was writ on royal roll, +That would but stain a silver bowl + With offering of her stainless blood, +Therewith might heal her: so they stayed +For hope's sad sake each blameless maid +There journeying in that dolorous shade + Whose bloom was bright in bud. + +No hurt nor harm to her it were +If she should yield a sister there +Some tribute of her blood, and fare +Forth with this joy at heart to bear, + That all unhurt and unafraid +This grace she had here by God's grace wrought. +And kindling all with kindly thought +And love that saw save love's self nought, + Shone, smiled, and spake the maid. + +"Good knight of mine, good will have I +To help this healing though I die." +"Nay," Balen said, "but love may try +What help in living love may lie. + --I will not lose the life of her +While my life lasteth." So she gave +The tribute love was fain to crave, +But might not heal though fain to save, + Were God's grace helpfuller. + +Another maid in later Mays +Won with her life that woful praise, +And died. But they, when surging day's +Deep tide fulfilled the dawn's wide ways, + Rode forth, and found by day or night +No chance to cross their wayfaring +Till when they saw the fourth day spring +A knight's hall gave them harbouring + Rich as a king's house might. + +And while they sat at meat and spake +Words bright and kind as grace might make +Sweet for true knighthood's kindly sake, +They heard a cry beside them break + The still-souled joy of blameless rest. +"What noise is this?" quoth Balen. "Nay," +His knightly host made answer, "may +Our grief not grieve you though I say + How here I dwell unblest. + +"Not many a day has lived and died +Since at a tournay late I tried +My strength to smite and turn and ride +Against a knight of kinglike pride, + King Pellam's brother: twice I smote +The splendour of his strength to dust: +And he, fulfilled of hate's fierce lust, +Swore vengeance, pledged for hell to trust, + And keen as hell's wide throat. + +"Invisible as the spirit of night +That heaven and earth in depth and height +May see not by the mild moon's light +Nor even when stars would grant them sight, + He walks and slays as plague's blind breath +Slays: and my son, whose anguish here +Makes moan perforce that mars our cheer, +He wounded, even ere love might fear + That hate were strong as death. + +"Nor may my son be whole till he +Whose stroke through him hath stricken me +Shall give again his blood to be +Our healing: yet may no man see + This felon, clothed with darkness round +And keen as lightning's life." Thereon +Spake Balen, and his presence shone +Even as the sun's when stars are gone + That hear dawn's trumpet sound. + +"That knight I know: two knights of mine, +Two comrades, sealed by faith's bright sign, +Whose eyes as ours that live should shine, +And drink the golden sunlight's wine + With joy's thanksgiving that they live, +He hath slain in even the same blind wise: +Were all wide wealth beneath the skies +Mine, might I meet him, eyes on eyes, + All would I laugh to give." + +His host made answer, and his gaze +Grew bright with trust as dawn's moist maze +With fire: "Within these twenty days, +King Pellam, lord of Lystenayse, + Holds feast through all this country cried, +And there before the knightly king +May no knight come except he bring +For witness of his wayfaring + His paramour or bride. + +"And there that day, so soon to shine, +This knight, your felon foe and mine, +Shall show, full-flushed with bloodred wine, +The fierce false face whereon we pine + To wreak the wrong he hath wrought us, bare +As shame should see and brand it." "Then," +Said Balen, "shall he give again +His blood to heal your son, and men + Shall see death blind him there." + +"Forth will we fare to-morrow," said +His host: and forth, as sunrise led, +They rode; and fifteen days were fled +Ere toward their goal their steeds had sped. + And there alighting might they find +For Balen's host no place to rest, +Who came without a gentler guest +Beside him: and that household's hest + Bade leave his sword behind. + +"Nay," Balen said, "that do I not: +My country's custom stands, God wot, +That none whose lot is knighthood's lot, +To ride where chance as fire is hot + With hope or promise given of fight, +Shall fail to keep, for knighthood's part, +His weapon with him as his heart; +And as I came will I depart, + Or hold herein my right." + +Then gat he leave to wear his sword +Beside the strange king's festal board +Where feasted many a knight and lord +In seemliness of fair accord: + And Balen asked of one beside, +"Is there not in this court, if fame +Keep faith, a knight that hath to name +Garlon?" and saying that word of shame, + He scanned that place of pride. + +"Yonder he goeth against the light, +He with the face as swart as night," +Quoth the other: "but he rides to fight +Hid round by charms from all men's sight, + And many a noble knight he hath slain, +Being wrapt in darkness deep as hell +And silence dark as shame." "Ah, well," +Said Balen, "is that he? the spell + May be the sorcerer's bane." + +Then Balen gazed upon him long, +And thought, "If here I wreak my wrong, +Alive I may not scape, so strong +The felon's friends about him throng; + And if I leave him here alive, +This chance perchance may life not give +Again: much evil, if he live, +He needs must do, should fear forgive + When wrongs bid strike and strive." + +And Garlon, seeing how Balen's eye +Dwelt on him as his heart waxed high +With joy in wrath to see him nigh, +Rose wolf-like with a wolfish cry + And crossed and smote him on the face, +Saying, "Knight, what wouldst thou with me? Eat, +For shame, and gaze not: eat thy meat +Do that thou art come for: stands thy seat + Next ours of royal race?" + +"Well hast thou said: thy rede rings true; +That which I came for will I do," +Quoth Balen: forth his fleet sword flew, +And clove the head of Garlon through + Clean to the shoulders. Then he cried +Loud to his lady, "Give me here +The truncheon of the shameful spear +Wherewith he slew your knight, when fear + Bade hate in darkness ride." + +And gladly, bright with grief made glad, +She gave the truncheon as he bade, +For still she bare it with her, sad +And strong in hopeless hope she had, + Through all dark days of thwarting fear, +To see if doom should fall aright +And as God's fire-fraught thunder smite +That head, clothed round with hell-faced night, + Bare now before her here. + +And Balen smote therewith the dead +Dark felon's body through, and said +Aloud, "With even this truncheon, red +With baser blood than brave men bled + Whom in thy shameful hand it slew, +Thou hast slain a nobler knight, and now +It clings and cleaves thy body: thou +Shall cleave again no brave man's brow, + Though hell would aid anew." + +And toward his host he turned and spake; +"Now for your son's long-suffering sake +Blood ye may fetch enough, and take +Wherewith to heal his hurt, and make + Death warm as life." Then rose a cry +Loud as the wind's when stormy spring +Makes all the woodland rage and ring: +"Thou hast slain my brother," said the king, + "And here with him shalt die." + +"Ay?" Balen laughed him answer. "Well, +Do it then thyself." And the answer fell +Fierce as a blast of hate from hell, +"No man of mine that with me dwell + Shall strike at thee but I their lord +For love of this my brother slain." +And Pellam caught and grasped amain +A grim great weapon, fierce and fain + To feed his hungering sword. + +And eagerly he smote, and sped +Not well: for Balen's blade, yet red +With lifeblood of the murderous dead, +Between the swordstroke and his head + Shone, and the strength of the eager stroke +Shore it in sunder: then the knight, +Naked and weaponless for fight, +Ran seeking him a sword to smite + As hope within him woke. + +And so their flight for deathward fast +From chamber forth to chamber passed +Where lay no weapon, till the last +Whose doors made way for Balen cast + Upon him as a sudden spell +Wonder that even as lightning leapt +Across his heart and eyes, and swept +As storm across his soul that kept + Wild watch, and watched not well. + +For there the deed he did, being near +Death's danger, breathless as the deer +Driven hard to bay, but void of fear, +Brought sorrow down for many a year + On many a man in many a land. +All glorious shone that chamber, bright +As burns at sunrise heaven's own height: +With cloth of gold the bed was dight, + That flamed on either hand. + +And one he saw within it lie: +A table of all clear gold thereby +Stood stately, fair as morning's eye, +With four strong silver pillars, high + And firm as faith and hope may be: +And on it shone the gift he sought, +A spear most marvellously wrought, +That when his eye and handgrip caught + Small fear at heart had he. + +Right on King Pellam then, as fire +Turns when the thwarting winds wax higher, +He turned, and smote him down. So dire +The stroke was, when his heart's desire + Struck, and had all its fill of hate, +That as the king fell swooning down +Fell the walls, rent from base to crown, +Prone as prone seas that break and drown + Ships fraught with doom for freight. + +And there for three days' silent space +Balen and Pellam face to face +Lay dead or deathlike, and the place +Was death's blind kingdom, till the grace + That God had given the sacred seer +For counsel or for comfort led +His Merlin thither, and he said, +Standing between the quick and dead, + "Rise up, and rest not here." + +And Balen rose and set his eyes +Against the seer's as one that tries +His heart against the sea's and sky's +And fears not if he lives or dies, + Saying, "I would have my damosel, +Ere I fare forth, to fare with me." +And sadly Merlin answered, "See +Where now she lies; death knows if she + Shall now fare ill or well. + +"And in this world we meet no more, +Balen." And Balen, sorrowing sore, +Though fearless yet the heart he bore +Beat toward the life that lay before, + Rode forth through many a wild waste land +Where men cried out against him, mad +With grievous faith in fear that bade +Their wrath make moan for doubt they had + Lest hell had armed his hand. + +For in that chamber's wondrous shrine +Was part of Christ's own blood, the wine +Shed of the true triumphal vine +Whose growth bids earth's deep darkness shine + As heaven's deep light through the air and sea; +That mystery toward our northern shore +Arimathean Joseph bore +For healing of our sins of yore, + That grace even there might be. + +And with that spear there shrined apart +Was Christ's side smitten to the heart. +And fiercer than the lightning's dart +The stroke was, and the deathlike smart + Wherewith, nigh drained of blood and breath, +The king lay stricken as one long dead: +And Joseph's was the blood there shed, +For near akin was he that bled, + Near even as life to death. + +And therefore fell on all that land +Sorrow: for still on either hand, +As Balen rode alone and scanned +Bright fields and cities built to stand + Till time should break them, dead men lay; +And loud and long from all their folk +Living, one cry that cursed him broke; +Three countries had his dolorous stroke + Slain, or should surely slay. + + + +VII + + +In winter, when the year burns low +As fire wherein no firebrands glow, +And winds dishevel as they blow +The lovely stormy wings of snow, + The hearts of northern men burn bright +With joy that mocks the joy of spring +To hear all heaven's keen clarions ring +Music that bids the spirit sing + And day give thanks for night. + +Aloud and dark as hell or hate +Round Balen's head the wind of fate +Blew storm and cloud from death's wide gate: +But joy as grief in him was great + To face God's doom and live or die, +Sorrowing for ill wrought unaware, +Rejoicing in desire to dare +All ill that innocence might bear + With changeless heart and eye. + +Yet passing fain he was when past +Those lands and woes at length and last. +Eight times, as thence he fared forth fast, +Dawn rose and even was overcast + With starry darkness dear as day, +Before his venturous quest might meet +Adventure, seeing within a sweet +Green low-lying forest, hushed in heat, + A tower that barred his way. + +Strong summer, dumb with rapture, bound +With golden calm the woodlands round +Wherethrough the knight forth faring found +A knight that on the greenwood ground + Sat mourning: fair he was to see, +And moulded as for love or fight +A maiden's dreams might frame her knight; +But sad in joy's far-flowering sight + As grief's blind thrall might be. + +"God save you," Balen softly said, +"What grief bows down your heart and head +Thus, as one sorrowing for his dead? +Tell me, if haply I may stead + In aught your sorrow, that I may." +"Sir knight," that other said, "thy word +Makes my grief heavier that I heard." +And pity and wonder inly stirred + Drew Balen thence away. + +And so withdrawn with silent speed +He saw the sad knight's stately steed, +A war-horse meet for warrior's need, +That none who passed might choose but heed, + So strong he stood, so great, so fair, +With eyes afire for flight or fight, +A joy to look on, mild in might, +And swift and keen and kind as light, + And all as clear of care. + +And Balen, gazing on him, heard +Again his master's woful word +Sound sorrow through the calm unstirred +By fluttering wind or flickering bird, + Thus: "Ah, fair lady and faithless, why +Break thy pledged faith to meet me? soon +An hour beyond thy trothplight noon +Shall strike my death-bell, and thy boon + Is this, that here I die. + +"My curse for all thy gifts may be +Heavier than death or night on thee; +For now this sword thou gavest me +Shall set me from thy bondage free." + And there the man had died self-slain, +But Balen leapt on him and caught +The blind fierce hand that fain had wrought +Self-murder, stung with fire of thought, + As rage makes anguish fain. + +Then, mad for thwarted grief, "Let go +My hand," the fool of wrath and woe +Cried, "or I slay thee." Scarce the glow +In Balen's cheek and eye might show, + As dawn shows day while seas lie chill, +He heard, though pity took not heed, +But smiled and spake, "That shall not need: +What man may do to bid you speed + I, so God speed me, will." + +And the other craved his name, beguiled +By hope that made his madness mild. +Again Sir Balen spake and smiled: +"My name is Balen, called the Wild + By knights whom kings and courts make tame +Because I ride alone afar +And follow but my soul for star." +"Ah, sir, I know the knight you are + And all your fiery fame. + +"The knight that bears two swords I know, +Most praised of all men, friend and foe, +For prowess of your hands, that show +Dark war the way where balefires glow + And kindle glory like the dawn's." +So spake the sorrowing knight, and stood +As one whose heart fresh hope made good: +And forth they rode by wold and wood + And down the glimmering lawns. + +And Balen craved his name who rode +Beside him, where the wild wood glowed +With joy to feel how noontide flowed +Through glade and glen and rough green road + Till earth grew joyful as the sea. +"My name is Garnysshe of the Mount, +A poor man's son of none account," +He said, "where springs of loftier fount + Laugh loud with pride to be. + +"But strength in weakness lives and stands +As rocks that rise through shifting sands; +And for the prowess of my hands +One made me knight and gave me lands, + Duke Hermel, lord from far to near, +Our prince; and she that loved me--she +I love, and deemed she loved but me, +His daughter, pledged her faith to be + Ere now beside me here." + +And Balen, brief of speech as light +Whose word, beheld of depth and height, +Strikes silence through the stars of night, +Spake, and his face as dawn's grew bright, + For hope to help a happier man, +"How far then lies she hence?" "By this," +Her lover sighed and said, "I wis, +Not six fleet miles the passage is, + And straight as thought could span." + +So rode they swift and sure, and found +A castle walled and dyked around: +And Balen, as a warrior bound +On search where hope might fear to sound + The darkness of the deeps of doubt, +Made entrance through the guardless gate +As life, while hope in life grows great, +Makes way between the doors of fate + That death may pass thereout. + +Through many a glorious chamber, wrought +For all delight that love's own thought +Might dream or dwell in, Balen sought +And found of all he looked for nought, + For like a shining shell her bed +Shone void and vacant of her: thence +Through devious wonders bright and dense +He passed and saw with shame-struck sense + Where shame and faith lay dead. + +Down in a sweet small garden, fair +With flowerful joy in the ardent air, +He saw, and raged with loathing, where +She lay with love-dishevelled hair + Beneath a broad bright laurel tree +And clasped in amorous arms a knight, +The unloveliest that his scornful sight +Had dwelt on yet; a shame the bright + Broad noon might shrink to see. + +And thence in wrathful hope he turned, +Hot as the heart within him burned, +To meet the knight whose love, so spurned +And spat on and made nought of, yearned + And dreamed and hoped and lived in vain, +And said, "I have found her sleeping fast," +And led him where the shadows cast +From leaves wherethrough light winds ran past + Screened her from sun and rain. + +But Garnysshe, seeing, reeled as he stood +Like a tree, kingliest of the wood, +Half hewn through: and the burning blood +Through lips and nostrils burst aflood: + And gathering back his rage and might +As broken breakers rally and roar +The loud wind down that drives off shore, +He smote their heads off: there no more + Their life might shame the light. + +Then turned he back toward Balen, mad +With grief, and said, "The grief I had +Was nought: ere this my life was glad: +Thou hast done this deed: I was but sad + And fearful how my hope might fare: +I had lived my sorrow down, hadst thou +Not shown me what I saw but now." +The sorrow and scorn on Balen's brow + Bade silence curb him there. + +And Balen answered: "What I did +I did to hearten thee and bid +Thy courage know that shame should rid +A man's high heart of love that hid + Blind shame within its core: God knows, +I did, to set a bondman free, +But as I would thou hadst done by me, +That seeing what love must die to see + Love's end might well be woe's." + +"Alas," the woful weakling said, +"I have slain what most I loved: I have shed +The blood most near my heart: the head +Lies cold as earth, defiled and dead, + That all my life was lighted by, +That all my soul bowed down before, +And now may bear with life no more: +For now my sorrow that I bore + Is twofold, and I die." + +Then with his red wet sword he rove +His breast in sunder, where it clove +Life, and no pulse against it strove, +So sure and strong the deep stroke drove + Deathward: and Balen, seeing him dead, +Rode thence, lest folk would say he had slain +Those three; and ere three days again +Had seen the sun's might wax and wane, + Far forth he had spurred and sped. + +And riding past a cross whereon +Broad golden letters written shone, +Saying, "No knight born may ride alone +Forth toward this castle," and all the stone + Glowed in the sun's glare even as though +Blood stained it from the crucified +Dead burden of one that there had died, +An old hoar man he saw beside + Whose face was wan as woe. + +"Balen the Wild," he said, "this way +Thy way lies not: thou hast passed to-day +Thy bands: but turn again, and stay +Thy passage, while thy soul hath sway + Within thee, and through God's good power +It will avail thee:" and anon +His likeness as a cloud was gone, +And Balen's heart within him shone + Clear as the cloudless hour. + +Nor fate nor fear might overcast +The soul now near its peace at last. +Suddenly, thence as forth he past, +A mighty and a deadly blast + Blown of a hunting-horn he heard, +As when the chase hath nobly sped. +"That blast is blown for me," he said, +"The prize am I who am yet not dead," + And smiled upon the word. + +As toward a royal hart's death rang +That note, whence all the loud wood sang +With winged and living sound that sprang +Like fire, and keen as fire's own fang + Pierced the sweet silence that it slew. +But nought like death or strife was here: +Fair semblance and most goodly cheer +They made him, they whose troop drew near + As death among them drew. + +A hundred ladies well arrayed +And many a knight well weaponed made +That kindly show of cheer: the glade +Shone round them till its very shade + Lightened and laughed from grove to lawn +To hear and see them: so they brought +Within a castle fair as thought +Could dream that wizard hands had wrought + The guest among them drawn. + +All manner of glorious joy was there: +Harping and dancing, loud and fair, +And minstrelsy that made of air +Fire, so like fire its raptures were. + Then the chief lady spake on high: +"Knight with the two swords, one of two +Must help you here or fall from you: +For needs you now must have ado + And joust with one hereby. + +"A good knight guards an island here +Against all swords that chance brings near, +And there with stroke of sword and spear +Must all for whom these halls make cheer + Fight, and redeem or yield up life." +"An evil custom," Balen said, +"Is this, that none whom chance hath led +Hither, if knighthood crown his head, + May pass unstirred to strife." + +"You shall not have ado to fight +Here save against one only knight," +She said, and all her face grew bright +As hell-fire, lit with hungry light + That wicked laughter touched with flame. +"Well, since I shall thereto," said he, +"I am ready at heart as death for me: +Fain would I be where death should be + And life should lose its name. + +"But travelling men whose goal afar +Shines as a cloud-constraining star +Are often weary, and wearier are +Their steeds that feel each fret and jar + Wherewith the wild ways wound them: yet, +Albeit my horse be weary, still +My heart is nowise weary; will +Sustains it even till death fulfil + My trust upon him set." + +"Sir," said a knight thereby that stood, +"Meseems your shield is now not good +But worn with warrior work, nor could +Sustain in strife the strokes it would: + A larger will I lend you." "Ay, +Thereof I thank you," Balen said, +Being single of heart as one that read +No face aright whence faith had fled, + Nor dreamed that faith could fly. + +And so he took that shield unknown +And left for treason's touch his own, +And toward that island rode alone, +Nor heard the blast against him blown + Sound in the wind's and water's sound, +But hearkening toward the stream's edge heard +Nought save the soft stream's rippling word, +Glad with the gladness of a bird, + That sang to the air around. + +And there against the water-side +He saw, fast moored to rock and ride, +A fair great boat anear abide +Like one that waits the turning tide, + Wherein embarked his horse and he +Passed over toward no kindly strand: +And where they stood again on land +There stood a maiden hard at hand + Who seeing them wept to see. + +And "O knight Balen," was her cry, +"Why have ye left your own shield? why +Come hither out of time to die? +For had ye kept your shield, thereby + Ye had yet been known, and died not here. +Great pity it is of you this day +As ever was of knight, or may +Be ever, seeing in war's bright way + Praise knows not Balen's peer." + +And Balen said, "Thou hast heard my name +Right: it repenteth me, though shame +May tax me not with base men's blame, +That ever, hap what will, I came + Within this country; yet, being come, +For shame I may not turn again +Now, that myself and nobler men +May scorn me: now is more than then, + And faith bids fear be dumb. + +"Be it life or death, my chance I take, +Be it life's to build or death's to break: +And fall what may, me lists not make +Moan for sad life's or death's sad sake." + Then looked he on his armour, glad +And high of heart, and found it strong: +And all his soul became a song +And soared in prayer that soared not long, + For all the hope it had. + +Then saw he whence against him came +A steed whose trappings shone like flame, +And he that rode him showed the same +Fierce colour, bright as fire or fame, + But dark the visors were as night +That hid from Balen Balan's face, +And his from Balan: God's own grace +Forsook them for a shadowy space + Where darkness cast out light. + +The two swords girt that Balen bare +Gave Balan for a breath's while there +Pause, wondering if indeed it were +Balen his brother, bound to dare + The chance of that unhappy quest: +But seeing not as he thought to see +His shield, he deemed it was not he, +And so, as fate bade sorrow be, + They laid their spears in rest. + +So mighty was the course they ran +With spear to spear so great of span, +Each fell back stricken, man by man, +Horse by horse, borne down: so the ban + That wrought by doom against them wrought: +But Balen by his falling steed +Was bruised the sorer, being indeed +Way-weary, like a rain-bruised reed, + With travel ere he fought. + +And Balen rose again from swoon +First, and went toward him: all too soon +He too then rose, and the evil boon +Of strength came back, and the evil tune + Of battle unnatural made again +Mad music as for death's wide ear +Listening and hungering toward the near +Last sigh that life or death might hear + At last from dying men. + +Balan smote Balen first, and clove +His lifted shield that rose and strove +In vain against the stroke that drove +Down: as the web that morning wove + Of glimmering pearl from spray to spray +Dies when the strong sun strikes it, so +Shrank the steel, tempered thrice to show +Strength, as the mad might of the blow + Shore Balen's helm away. + +Then turning as a turning wave +Against the land-wind, blind and brave +In hope that dreams despair may save, +With even the unhappy sword that gave + The gifts of fame and fate in one +He smote his brother, and there had nigh +Felled him: and while they breathed, his eye +Glanced up, and saw beneath the sky + Sights fairer than the sun. + +The towers of all the castle there +Stood full of ladies, blithe and fair +As the earth beneath and the amorous air +About them and above them were: + So toward the blind and fateful fight +Again those brethren went, and sore +Were all the strokes they smote and bore, +And breathed again, and fell once more + To battle in their sight. + +With blood that either spilt and bled +Was all the ground they fought on red, +And each knight's hauberk hewn and shred +Left each unmailed and naked, shed + From off them even as mantles cast: +And oft they breathed, and drew but breath +Brief as the word strong sorrow saith, +And poured and drank the draught of death, + Till fate was full at last. + +And Balan, younger born than he +Whom darkness bade him slay, and be +Slain, as in mist where none may see +If aught abide or fall or flee, + Drew back a little and laid him down, +Dying: but Balen stood, and said, +As one between the quick and dead +Might stand and speak, "What good knight's head + Hath won this mortal crown? + +"What knight art thou? for never I +Who now beside thee dead shall die +Found yet the knight afar or nigh +That matched me." Then his brother's eye + Flashed pride and love; he spake and smiled +And felt in death life's quickening flame, +And answered: "Balan is my name, +The good knight Balen's brother; fame + Calls and miscalls him wild." + +The cry from Balen's lips that sprang +Sprang sharper than his sword's stroke rang. +More keen than death's or memory's fang, +Through sense and soul the shuddering pang + Shivered: and scarce he had cried, "Alas +That ever I should see this day," +When sorrow swooned from him away +As blindly back he fell, and lay + Where sleep lets anguish pass. + +But Balan rose on hands and knees +And crawled by childlike dim degrees +Up toward his brother, as a breeze +Creeps wingless over sluggard seas + When all the wind's heart fails it: so +Beneath their mother's eyes had he, +A babe that laughed with joy to be, +Made toward him standing by her knee + For love's sake long ago. + +Then, gathering strength up for a space, +From off his brother's dying face +With dying hands that wrought apace +While death and life would grant them grace + He loosed his helm and knew not him, +So scored with blood it was, and hewn +Athwart with darkening wounds: but soon +Life strove and shuddered through the swoon + Wherein its light lay dim. + +And sorrow set these chained words free: +"O Balan, O my brother! me +Thou hast slain, and I, my brother, thee +And now far hence, on shore and sea, + Shall all the wide world speak of us." +"Alas," said Balan, "that I might +Not know you, seeing two swords were dight +About you; now the unanswering sight + Hath here found answer thus. + +"Because you bore another shield +Than yours, that even ere youth could wield +Like arms with manhood's tried and steeled +Shone as my star of battle-field, + I deemed it surely might not be +My brother." Then his brother spake +Fiercely: "Would God, for thy sole sake, +I had my life again, to take + Revenge for only thee! + +"For all this deadly work was wrought +Of one false knight's false word and thought, +Whose mortal craft and counsel caught +And snared my faith who doubted nought, + And made me put my shield away. +Ah, might I live, I would destroy +That castle for its customs: joy +There makes of grief a deadly toy, + And death makes night of day." + +"Well done were that, if aught were done +Well ever here beneath the sun," +Said Balan: "better work were none: +For hither since I came and won + A woful honour born of death, +When here my hap it was to slay +A knight who kept this island way, +I might not pass by night or day + Hence, as this token saith. + +"No more shouldst thou, for all the might +Of heart and hand that seals thee knight +Most noble of all that see the light, +Brother, hadst thou but slain in fight + Me, and arisen unscathed and whole, +As would to God thou hadst risen! though here +Light is as darkness, hope as fear, +And love as hate: and none draws near + Save toward a mortal goal." + +Then, fair as any poison-flower +Whose blossom blights the withering bower +Whereon its blasting breath has power, +Forth fared the lady of the tower + With many a lady and many a knight, +And came across the water-way +Even where on death's dim border lay +Those brethren sent of her to slay + And die in kindless fight. + +And all those hard light hearts were swayed +With pity passing like a shade +That stays not, and may be not stayed, +To hear the mutual moan they made, + Each to behold his brother die, +Saying, "Both we came out of one tomb, +One star-crossed mother's woful womb, +And so within one grave-pit's gloom + Untimely shall we lie." + +And Balan prayed, as God should bless +That lady for her gentleness, +That where the battle's mortal stress +Had made for them perforce to press + The bed whence never man may rise +They twain, free now from hopes and fears, +Might sleep; and she, as one that hears, +Bowed her bright head: and very tears + Fell from her cold fierce eyes. + +Then Balen prayed her send a priest +To housel them, that ere they ceased +The hansel of the heavenly feast +That fills with light from the answering east + The sunset of the life of man +Might bless them, and their lips be kissed +With death's requickening eucharist, +And death's and life's dim sunlit mist + Pass as a stream that ran. + +And so their dying rites were done: +And Balen, seeing the death-struck sun +Sink, spake as he whose goal is won: +"Now, when our trophied tomb is one, + And over us our tale is writ, +How two that loved each other, two +Born and begotten brethren, slew +Each other, none that reads anew + Shall choose but weep for it. + +"And no good knight and no good man +Whose eye shall ever come to scan +The record of the imperious ban +That made our life so sad a span + Shall read or hear, who shall not pray +For us for ever." Then anon +Died Balan; but the sun was gone, +And deep the stars of midnight shone, + Ere Balen passed away. + +And there low lying, as hour on hour +Fled, all his life in all its flower +Came back as in a sunlit shower +Of dreams, when sweet-souled sleep has power + On life less sweet and glad to be. +He drank the draught of life's first wine +Again: he saw the moorland shine, +The rioting rapids of the Tyne, + The woods, the cliffs, the sea. + +The joy that lives at heart and home, +The joy to rest, the joy to roam, +The joy of crags and scaurs he clomb, +The rapture of the encountering foam + Embraced and breasted of the boy, +The first good steed his knees bestrode, +The first wild sound of songs that flowed +Through ears that thrilled and heart that glowed, + Fulfilled his death with joy. + +So, dying not as a coward that dies +And dares not look in death's dim eyes +Straight as the stars on seas and skies +Whence moon and sun recoil and rise, + He looked on life and death, and slept. +And there with morning Merlin came, +And on the tomb that told their fame +He wrote by Balan's Balen's name, + And gazed thereon, and wept. + +For all his heart within him yearned +With pity like as fire that burned. +The fate his fateful eye discerned +Far off now dimmed it, ere he turned + His face toward Camelot, to tell +Arthur of all the storms that woke +Round Balen, and the dolorous stroke, +And how that last blind battle broke + The consummated spell. + +"Alas," King Arthur said, "this day +I have heard the worst that woe might say: +For in this world that wanes away +I know not two such knights as they." + This is the tale that memory writes +Of men whose names like stars shall stand, +Balen and Balan, sure of hand, +Two brethren of Northumberland, + In life and death good knights. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF BALEN*** + + +******* This file should be named 2136.txt or 2136.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/3/2136 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk +from the 1896 Chatto & Windus edition. + + + + + +THE TALE OF BALEN + +by Algernon Charles Swinburne + + + + +DEDICATION + + + +TO MY MOTHER + +Love that holds life and death in fee, +Deep as the clear unsounded sea +And sweet as life or death can be, +Lays here my hope, my heart, and me +Before you, silent, in a song. +Since the old wild tale, made new, found grace, +When half sung through, before your face, +It needs must live a springtide space, +While April suns grow strong. + +March 24, 1896. + + + +THE TALE OF BALEN + + + +In hawthorn-time the heart grows light, +The world is sweet in sound and sight, +Glad thoughts and birds take flower and flight, +The heather kindles toward the light, +The whin is frankincense and flame. +And be it for strife or be it for love +The falcon quickens as the dove +When earth is touched from heaven above +With joy that knows no name. + +And glad in spirit and sad in soul +With dream and doubt of days that roll +As waves that race and find no goal +Rode on by bush and brake and bole +A northern child of earth and sea. +The pride of life before him lay +Radiant: the heavens of night and day +Shone less than shone before his way +His ways and days to be. + +And all his life of blood and breath +Sang out within him: time and death +Were even as words a dreamer saith +When sleep within him slackeneth, +And light and life and spring were one. +The steed between his knees that sprang, +The moors and woods that shone and sang, +The hours where through the spring's breath rang, +Seemed ageless as the sun. + +But alway through the bounteous bloom +That earth gives thanks if heaven illume +His soul forefelt a shadow of doom, +His heart foreknew a gloomier gloom +Than closes all men's equal ways, +Albeit the spirit of life's light spring +With pride of heart upheld him, king +And lord of hours like snakes that sting +And nights that darken days. + +And as the strong spring round him grew +Stronger, and all blithe winds that blew +Blither, and flowers that flowered anew +More glad of sun and air and dew, +The shadow lightened on his soul +And brightened into death and died +Like winter, as the bloom waxed wide +From woodside on to riverside +And southward goal to goal. + +Along the wandering ways of Tyne, +By beech and birch and thorn that shine +And laugh when life's requickening wine +Makes night and noon and dawn divine +And stirs in all the veins of spring, +And past the brightening banks of Tees, +He rode as one that breathes and sees +A sun more blithe, a merrier breeze, +A life that hails him king. + +And down the softening south that knows +No more how glad the heather glows, +Nor how, when winter's clarion blows +Across the bright Northumbrian snows, +Sea-mists from east and westward meet, +Past Avon senseless yet of song +And Thames that bore but swans in throng +He rode elate in heart and strong +In trust of days as sweet. + +So came he through to Camelot, +Glad, though for shame his heart waxed hot, +For hope within it withered not +To see the shaft it dreamed of shot +Fair toward the glimmering goal of fame, +And all King Arthur's knightliest there +Approved him knightly, swift to dare +And keen to bid their records bear +Sir Balen's northern name. + +Sir Balen of Northumberland +Gat grace before the king to stand +High as his heart was, and his hand +Wrought honour toward the strange north strand +That sent him south so goodly a knight. +And envy, sick with sense of sin, +Began as poisonous herbs begin +To work in base men's blood, akin +To men's of nobler might. + +And even so fell it that his doom, +For all his bright life's kindling bloom +And light that took no thought for gloom, +Fell as a breath from the opening tomb +Full on him ere he wist or thought. +For once a churl of royal seed, +King Arthur's kinsman, faint in deed +And loud in word that knew not heed, +Spake shame where shame was nought. + +"What doth one here in Camelot +Whose birth was northward? Wot we not +As all his brethren borderers wot +How blind of heart, how keen and hot, +The wild north lives and hates the south? +Men of the narrowing march that knows +Nought save the strength of storms and snows, +What would these carles where knighthood blows +A trump of kinglike mouth?" + +Swift from his place leapt Balen, smote +The liar across his face, and wrote +His wrath in blood upon the bloat +Brute cheek that challenged shame for note +How vile a king-born knave might be. +Forth sprang their swords, and Balen slew +The knave ere well one witness knew +Of all that round them stood or drew +What sight was there to see. + +Then spake the great king's wrathful will +A doom for six dark months to fill +Wherein close prison held him, still +And steadfast-souled for good or ill. +But when those weary days lay dead +His lordliest knights and barons spake +Before the king for Balen's sake +Good speech and wise, of force to break +The bonds that bowed his head. + + + +II + + + +In linden-time the heart is high +For pride of summer passing by +With lordly laughter in her eye; +A heavy splendour in the sky +Uplifts and bows it down again. +The spring had waned from wood and wold +Since Balen left his prison hold +And lowlier-hearted than of old +Beheld it wax and wane. + +Though humble heart and poor array +Kept not from spirit and sense away +Their noble nature, nor could slay +The pride they bade but pause and stay +Till time should bring its trust to flower, +Yet even for noble shame's sake, born +Of hope that smiled on hate and scorn, +He held him still as earth ere morn +Ring forth her rapturous hour. + +But even as earth when dawn takes flight +And beats her wings of dewy light +Full in the faltering face of night, +His soul awoke to claim by right +The life and death of deed and doom, +When once before the king there came +A maiden clad with grief and shame +And anguish burning her like flame +That feeds on flowers in bloom. + +Beneath a royal mantle, fair +With goodly work of lustrous vair, +Girt fast against her side she bare +A sword whose weight bade all men there +Quail to behold her face again. +Save of a passing perfect knight +Not great alone in force and fight +It might not be for any might +Drawn forth, and end her pain. + +So said she: then King Arthur spake: +"Albeit indeed I dare not take +Such praise on me, for knighthood's sake +And love of ladies will I make +Assay if better none may be." +By girdle and by sheath he caught +The sheathed and girded sword, and wrought +With strength whose force availed him nought +To save and set her free. + +Again she spake: "No need to set +The might that man has matched not yet +Against it: he whose hand shall get +Grace to release the bonds that fret +My bosom and my girdlestead +With little strain of strength or strife +Shall bring me as from death to life +And win to sister or to wife +Fame that outlives men dead." + +Then bade the king his knights assay +This mystery that before him lay +And mocked his might of manhood. "Nay," +Quoth she, "the man that takes away +This burden laid on me must be +A knight of record clean and fair +As sunlight and the flowerful air, +By sire and mother born to bear +A name to shame not me." + +Then forth strode Launcelot, and laid +The mighty-moulded hand that made +Strong knights reel back like birds affrayed +By storm that smote them as they strayed +Against the hilt that yielded not. +Then Tristram, bright and sad and kind +As one that bore in noble mind +Love that made light as darkness blind, +Fared even as Launcelot. + +Then Lamoracke, with hardier cheer, +As one that held all hope and fear +Wherethrough the spirit of man may steer +In life and death less dark or dear, +Laid hand thereon, and fared as they. +With half a smile his hand he drew +Back from the spell-bound thing, and threw +With half a glance his heart anew +Toward no such blameless may. + +Between Iseult and Guenevere +Sat one of name as high to hear, +But darklier doomed than they whose cheer +Foreshowed not yet the deadlier year +That bids the queenliest head bow down, +The queen Morgause of Orkney: they +With scarce a flash of the eye could say +The very word of dawn, when day +Gives earth and heaven their crown. + +But bright and dark as night or noon +And lowering as a storm-flushed moon +When clouds and thwarting winds distune +The music of the midnight, soon +To die from darkening star to star +And leave a silence in the skies +That yearns till dawn find voice and rise, +Shone strange as fate Morgause, with eyes +That dwelt on days afar. + +A glance that shot on Lamoracke +As from a storm-cloud bright and black. +Fire swift and blind as death's own track +Turned fleet as flame on Arthur back +From him whose hand forsook the hilt: +And one in blood and one in sin +Their hearts caught fire of pain within +And knew no goal for them to win +But death that guerdons guilt. + +Then Gawain, sweet of soul and gay +As April ere he dreams of May, +Strove, and prevailed not: then Sir Kay, +The snake-souled envier, vile as they +That fawn and foam and lurk and lie, +Sire of the bastard band whose brood +Was alway found at servile feud +With honour, faint and false and lewd, +Scarce grasped and put it by. + +Then wept for woe the damsel bound +With iron and with anguish round, +That none to help her grief was found +Or loose the inextricably inwound +Grim curse that girt her life with grief +And made a burden of her breath, +Harsh as the bitterness of death. +Then spake the king as one that saith +Words bitterer even than brief. + +"Methought the wide round world could bring +Before the face of queen or king +No knights more fit for fame to sing +Than fill this full Round Table's ring +With honour higher than pride of place: +But now my heart is wrung to know, +Damsel, that none whom fame can show +Finds grace to heal or help thy woe: +God gives them not the grace." + +Then from the lowliest place thereby, +With heart-enkindled cheek and eye +Most like the star and kindling sky +That say the sundawn's hour is high +When rapture trembles through the sea, +Strode Balen in his poor array +Forth, and took heart of grace to pray +The damsel suffer even him to assay +His power to set her free. + +Nay, how should he avail, she said, +Averse with scorn-averted head, +Where these availed not? none had sped +Of all these mightier men that led +The lists wherein he might not ride, +And how should less men speed? But he, +With lordlier pride of courtesy, +Put forth his hand and set her free +From pain and humbled pride. + +But on the sword he gazed elate +With hope set higher than fear or fate, +Or doubt of darkling days in wait; +And when her thankful praise waxed great +And craved of him the sword again, +He would not give it. "Nay, for mine +It is till force may make it thine." +A smile that shone as death may shine +Spake toward him bale and bane. + +Strange lightning flickered from her eyes. +"Gentle and good in knightliest guise +And meet for quest of strange emprise +Thou hast here approved thee: yet not wise +To keep the sword from me, I wis. +For with it thou shalt surely slay +Of all that look upon the day +The man best loved of thee, and lay +Thine own life down for his." + +"What chance God sends, that chance I take," +He said. Then soft and still she spake; +"I would but for thine only sake +Have back the sword of thee, and break +The links of doom that bind thee round. +But seeing thou wilt not have it so, +My heart for thine is wrung with woe." +"God's will," quoth he, "it is, we know, +Wherewith our lives are bound." + +"Repent it must thou soon," she said, +"Who wouldst not hear the rede I read +For thine and not for my sake, sped +In vain as waters heavenward shed +From springs that falter and depart +Earthward. God bids not thee believe +Truth, and the web thy life must weave +For even this sword to close and cleave +Hangs heavy round my heart." + +So passed she mourning forth. But he, +With heart of springing hope set free +As birds that breast and brave the sea, +Bade horse and arms and armour be +Made straightway ready toward the fray. +Nor even might Arthur's royal prayer +Withhold him, but with frank and fair +Thanksgiving and leave-taking there +He turned him thence away. + + + +III + + + +As the east wind, when the morning's breast +Gleams like a bird's that leaves the nest, +A fledgeling halcyon's bound on quest, +Drives wave on wave on wave to west +Till all the sea be life and light, +So time's mute breath, that brings to bloom +All flowers that strew the dead spring's tomb, +Drives day on day on day to doom +Till all man's day be night. + +Brief as the breaking of a wave +That hurls on man his thunderous grave +Ere fear find breath to cry or crave +Life that no chance may spare or save, +The light of joy and glory shone +Even as in dreams where death seems dead +Round Balen's hope-exalted head, +Shone, passed, and lightened as it fled +The shadow of doom thereon. + +For as he bound him thence to fare, +Before the stately presence there +A lady like a windflower fair, +Girt on with raiment strange and rare +That rippled whispering round her, came. +Her clear cold eyes, all glassy grey, +Seemed lit not with the light of day +But touched with gleams that waned away +Of quelled and fading flame. + +Before the king she bowed and spake: +"King, for thine old faith's plighted sake +To me the lady of the lake, +I come in trust of thee to take +The guerdon of the gift I gave, +Thy sword Excalibur." And he +Made answer: "Be it whate'er it be, +If mine to give, I give it thee, +Nor need is thine to crave." + +As when a gleam of wicked light +Turns half a low-lying water bright +That moans beneath the shivering night +With sense of evil sound and sight +And whispering witchcraft's bated breath, +Her wan face quickened as she said: +"This knight that won the sword--his head +I crave or hers that brought it. Dead, +Let these be one in death." + +"Not with mine honour this may be; +Ask all save this thou wilt," quoth he, +"And have thy full desire." But she +Made answer: "Nought will I of thee, +Nought if not this." Then Balen turned, +And saw the sorceress hard beside +By whose fell craft his mother died: +Three years he had sought her, and here espied +His heart against her yearned. + +"Ill be thou met," he said, "whose ire +Would slake with blood thy soul's desire: +By thee my mother died in fire; +Die thou by me a death less dire." +Sharp flashed his sword forth, fleet as flame, +And shore away her sorcerous head. +"Alas for shame," the high king said, +"That one found once my friend lies dead; +Alas for all our shame! + +"Thou shouldst have here forborne her; yea, +Were all the wrongs that bid men slay +Thine, heaped too high for wrath to weigh, +Not here before my face today +Was thine the right to wreak thy wrong." +Still stood he then as one that found +His rose of hope by storm discrowned, +And all the joy that girt him round +Brief as a broken song. + +Yet ere he passed he turned and spake: +"King, only for thy nobler sake +Than aught of power man's power may take +Or pride of place that pride may break +I bid the lordlier man in thee, +That lives within the king, give ear. +This justice done before thee here +On one that hell's own heart holds dear, +Needs might not this but be. + +"Albeit, for all that pride would prove, +My heart be wrung to lose thy love, +It yet repents me not hereof: +So many an eagle and many a dove, +So many a knight, so many a may, +This water-snake of poisonous tongue +To death by words and wiles hath stung, +That her their slayer, from hell's lake sprung, +I did not ill to slay." + +"Yea," said the king, "too high of heart +To stand before a king thou art; +Yet irks it me to bid thee part +And take thy penance for thy part, +That God may put upon thy pride." +Then Balen took the severed head +And toward his hostry turned and sped +As one that knew not quick from dead +Nor good from evil tide. + +He bade his squire before him stand +And take that sanguine spoil in hand +And bear it far by shore and strand +Till all in glad Northumberland +That loved him, seeing it, all might know +His deadliest foe was dead, and hear +How free from prison as from fear +He dwelt in trust of the answering year +To bring him weal for woe. + +"And tell them, now I take my way +To meet in battle, if I may, +King Ryons of North Wales, and slay +That king of kernes whose fiery sway +Doth all the marches dire despite +That serve King Arthur: so shall he +Again be gracious lord to me, +And I that leave thee meet with thee +Once more in Arthur's sight." + +So spake he ere they parted, nor +Took shame or fear to counsellor, +As one whom none laid ambush for; +And wist not how Sir Launceor, +The wild king's son of Ireland, hot +And high in wrath to know that one +Stood higher in fame before the sun, +Even Balen, since the sword was won, +Drew nigh from Camelot. + +For thence, in heat of hate and pride, +As one that man might bid not bide, +He craved the high king's grace to ride +On quest of Balen far and wide +And wreak the wrong his wrath had wrought. +"Yea," Arthur said, "for such despite +Was done me never in my sight +As this thine hand shall now requite +If trust avail us aught." + +But ere he passed, in eager mood +To feed his hate with bitter food, +Before the king's face Merlin stood +And heard his tale of ill and good, +Of Balen, and the sword achieved, +And whence it smote as heaven's red ire +That direful dame of doom as dire; +And how the king's wrath turned to fire +The grief wherewith he grieved. + +And darkening as he gave it ear, +The still face of the sacred seer +Waxed wan with wrath and not with fear, +And ever changed its cloudier cheer +Till all his face was very night. +"This damosel that brought the sword," +He said, "before the king my lord, +And all these knights about his board, +Hath done them all despite. + +"The falsest damosel she is +That works men ill on earth, I wis, +And all her mind is toward but this, +To kill as with a lying kiss +Truth, and the life of noble trust. +A brother hath she,--see but now +The flame of shame that brands her brow! - +A true man, pure as faith's own vow, +Whose honour knows not rust. + +"This good knight found within her bower +A felon and her paramour, +And slew him in his shameful hour, +As right gave might and righteous power +To hands that wreaked so foul a wrong. +Then, for the hate her heart put on, +She sought by ways where death had gone +The lady Lyle of Avalon, +Whose crafts are strange and strong. + +"The sorceress, one with her in thought, +Gave her that sword of magic, wrought +By charms whereof sweet heaven sees nought, +That hither girt on her she brought +To be by doom her brother's bane. +And grief it is to think how he +That won it, being of heart so free +And perfect found in chivalry, +Shall by that sword lie slain. + +Great pity it is and strange despite +That one whose eyes are stars to light +Honour, and shine as heaven's own height, +Should perish, being the goodliest knight +That even the all-glorious north has borne. +Nor shall my lord the king behold +A lordlier friend of mightier mould +Than Balen, though his tale be told +Ere noon fulfil his morn." + + + +IV + + + +As morning hears before it run +The music of the mounting sun, +And laughs to watch his trophies won +From darkness, and her hosts undone, +And all the night become a breath, +Nor dreams that fear should hear and flee +The summer menace of the sea, +So hears our hope what life may be, +And knows it not for death. + +Each day that slays its hours and dies +Weeps, laughs, and lightens on our eyes, +And sees and hears not: smiles and sighs +As flowers ephemeral fall and rise +About its birth, about its way, +And pass as love and sorrow pass, +As shadows flashing down a glass, +As dew-flowers blowing in flowerless grass, +As hope from yesterday. + +The blossom of the sunny dew +That now the stronger sun strikes through +Fades off the blade whereon it blew +No fleetlier than the flowers that grew +On hope's green stem in life's fierce light. +Nor might the glory soon to sit +Awhile on Balen's crest alit +Outshine the shadow of doom on it +Or stay death's wings from flight. + +Dawn on a golden moorland side +By holt and heath saw Balen ride +And Launceor after, pricked with pride +And stung with spurring envy: wide +And far he had ridden athwart strange lands +And sought amiss the man he found +And cried on, till the stormy sound +Rang as a rallying trumpet round +That fires men's hearts and hands. + +Abide he bade him: nor was need +To bid when Balen wheeled his steed +Fiercely, less fain by word than deed +To bid his envier evil speed, +And cried, "What wilt thou with me?" Loud +Rang Launceor's vehement answer: "Knight, +To avenge on thee the dire despite +Thou hast done us all in Arthur's sight +I stand toward Arthur vowed." + +"Ay?" Balen said: "albeit I see +I needs must deal in strife with thee, +Light is the wyte thou layest on me; +For her I slew and sinned not, she +Was dire in all men's eyes as death, +Or none were lother found than I +By me to bid a woman die: +As lief were loyal men to lie, +Or scorn what honour saith." + +As the arched wave's weight against the reef +Hurls, and is hurled back like a leaf +Storm-shrivelled, and its rage of grief +Speaks all the loud broad sea in brief, +And quells the hearkening hearts of men, +Or as the crash of overfalls +Down under blue smooth water brawls +Like jarring steel on ruining walls, +So rang their meeting then. + +As wave on wave shocks, and confounds +The bounding bulk whereon it bounds +And breaks and shattering seaward sounds +As crying of the old sea's wolves and hounds +That moan and ravin and rage and wail, +So steed on steed encountering sheer +Shocked, and the strength of Launceor's spear +Shivered on Balen's shield, and fear +Bade hope within him quail. + +But Balen's spear through Launceor's shield +Clove as a ploughshare cleaves the field +And pierced the hauberk triple-steeled, +That horse with horseman stricken reeled, +And as a storm-breached rock falls, fell. +And Balen turned his horse again +And wist not yet his foe lay slain, +And saw him dead that sought his bane +And wrought and fared not well. + +Suddenly, while he gazed and stood, +And mused in many-minded mood +If life or death were evil or good, +Forth of a covert of a wood +That skirted half the moorland lea +Fast rode a maiden flower-like white +Full toward that fair wild place of fight, +Anhungered of the woful sight +God gave her there to see. + +And seeing the man there fallen and dead, +She cried against the sun that shed +Light on the living world, and said, +"O Balen, slayer whose hand is red, +Two bodies and one heart thou hast slain, +Two hearts within one body: aye, +Two souls thou hast lost; by thee they die, +Cast out of sight of earth and sky +And all that made them fain." + +And from the dead his sword she caught, +And fell in trance that wist of nought, +Swooning: but softly Balen sought +To win from her the sword she thought +To die on, dying by Launceor's side. +Again her wakening wail outbroke +As wildly, sword in hand, she woke +And struck one swift and bitter stroke +That healed her, and she died. + +And sorrowing for their strange love's sake +Rode Balen forth by lawn and lake, +By moor and moss and briar and brake, +And in his heart their sorrow spake +Whose lips were dumb as death, and said +Mute words of presage blind and vain +As rain-stars blurred and marred by rain +To wanderers on a moonless main +Where night and day seem dead. + +Then toward a sunbright wildwood side +He looked and saw beneath it ride +A knight whose arms afar espied +By note of name and proof of pride +Bare witness of his brother born, +His brother Balan, hard at hand, +Twin flower of bright Northumberland, +Twin sea-bird of their loud sea-strand, +Twin song-bird of their morn. + +Ah then from Balen passed away +All dread of night, all doubt of day, +All care what life or death might say, +All thought of all worse months than May: +Only the might of joy in love +Brake forth within him as a fire, +And deep delight in deep desire +Of far-flown days whose full-souled quire +Rang round from the air above. + +From choral earth and quiring air +Rang memories winged like songs that bear +Sweet gifts for spirit and sense to share: +For no man's life knows love more fair +And fruitful of memorial things +Than this the deep dear love that breaks +With sense of life on life, and makes +The sundawn sunnier as it wakes +Where morning round it rings. + +"O brother, O my brother!" cried +Each upon each, and cast aside +Their helms unbraced that might not hide +From sight of memory single-eyed +The likeness graven of face and face, +And kissed and wept upon each other +For joy and pity of either brother, +And love engrafted by sire and mother, +God's natural gift of grace. + +And each with each took counsel meet +For comfort, making sorrow sweet, +And grief a goodly thing to greet: +And word from word leapt light and fleet +Till all the venturous tale was told, +And how in Balen's hope it lay +To meet the wild Welsh king and slay, +And win from Arthur back for pay +The grace he gave of old. + +"And thither will not thou with me +And win as great a grace for thee?" +"That will I well," quoth Balan: "we +Will cleave together, bound and free, +As brethren should, being twain and one." +But ere they parted thence there came +A creature withered as with flame, +A dwarf mismade in nature's shame, +Between them and the sun. + +And riding fleet as fire may glide +He found the dead lie side by side, +And wailed and rent his hair and cried, +"Who hath done this deed?" And Balen eyed +The strange thing loathfully, and said, +"The knight I slew, who found him fain +And keen to slay me: seeing him slain, +The maid I sought to save in vain, +Self-stricken, here lies dead. + +"Sore grief was mine to see her die, +And for her true faith's sake shall I +Love, and with love of heart more high, +All women better till I die." +"Alas," the dwarf said, "ill for thee +In evil hour this deed was done: +For now the quest shall be begun +Against thee, from the dawning sun +Even to the sunset sea. + +"From shore to mountain, dawn to night, +The kinsfolk of this great dead knight +Will chase thee to thy death." A light +Of swift blithe scorn flashed answer bright +As fire from Balen's eye. "For that, +Small fear shall fret my heart," quoth he: +"But that my lord the king should be +For this dead man's sake wroth with me, +Weep might it well thereat." + +Then murmuring passed the dwarf away, +And toward the knights in fair array +Came riding eastward up the way +From where the flower-soft lowlands lay +A king whose name the sweet south-west +Held high in honour, and the land +That bowed beneath his gentle hand +Wore on its wild bright northern strand +Tintagel for a crest. + +And Balen hailed with homage due +King Mark of Cornwall, when he knew +The pennon that before him flew: +And for those lovers dead and true +The king made moan to hear their doom; +And for their sorrow's sake he sware +To seek in all the marches there +The church that man might find most fair +And build therein their tomb. + + + +V + + + +As thought from thought takes wing and flies, +As month on month with sunlit eyes +Tramples and triumphs in its rise, +As wave smites wave to death and dies, +So chance on hurtling chance like steel +Strikes, flashes, and is quenched, ere fear +Can whisper hope, or hope can hear, +If sorrow or joy be far or near +For time to hurt or heal. + +Swift as a shadow and strange as light +That cleaves in twain the shadow of night +Before the wide-winged word takes flight +That thunder speaks to depth and height +And quells the quiet hour with sound, +There came before King Mark and stood +Between the moorside and the wood +The man whose word God's will made good, +Nor guile was in it found. + +And Merlin said to Balen: "Lo, +Thou hast wrought thyself a grievous woe +To let this lady die, and know +Thou mightst have stayed her deadly blow." +And Balen answered him and said, +"Nay, by my truth to faith, not I, +So fiercely fain she was to die; +Ere well her sword had flashed on high, +Self-slain she lay there dead." + +Again and sadly Merlin spake: +"My heart is wrung for this deed's sake, +To know thee therefore doomed to take +Upon thine hand a curse, and make +Three kingdoms pine through twelve years' change, +In want and woe: for thou shalt smite +The man most noble and truest knight +That looks upon the live world's light +A dolorous stroke and strange. + +"And not till years shall round their goal +May this man's wound thou hast given be whole." +And Balen, stricken through the soul +By dark-winged words of doom and dole, +Made answer: "If I wist it were +No lie but sooth thou sayest of me, +Then even to make a liar of thee +Would I too slay myself, and see +How death bids dead men fare." + +And Merlin took his leave and passed +And was not: and the shadow as fast +Went with him that his word had cast, +Too fleet for thought thereof to last: +And there those brethren bade King Mark +Farewell: but fain would Mark have known +The strong knight's name who had overthrown +The pride of Launceor, when it shone +Bright as it now lay dark. + +And Balan for his brother spake, +Saying: "Sir, albeit him list not break +The seal of secret time, nor shake +Night off him ere his morning wake, +By these two swords he is girt withal +May men that praise him, knights and lords, +Call him the knight that bears two swords, +And all the praise his fame accords +Make answer when they call." + +So parted they toward eventide; +And tender twilight, heavy-eyed, +Saw deep down glimmering woodlands ride +Balen and Balan side by side, +Till where the leaves grew dense and dim +Again they spied from far draw near +The presence of the sacred seer, +But so disguised and strange of cheer +That seeing they knew not him. + +"Now whither ride ye," Merlin said, +"Through shadows that the sun strikes red, +Ere night be born or day be dead?" +But they, for doubt half touched with dread, +Would say not where their goal might lie. +"And thou," said Balen, "what art thou, +To walk with shrouded eye and brow?" +He said: "Me lists not show thee now +By name what man am I." + +"Ill seen is this of thee," said they, +"That thou art true in word and way +Nor fain to fear the face of day, +Who wilt not as a true man say +The name it shames not him to bear." +He answered: "Be it or be it not so, +Yet why ye ride this way I know, +To meet King Ryons as a foe, +And how your hope shall fare. + +"Well, if ye hearken toward my rede, +Ill, if ye hear not, shall ye speed." +"Ah, now," they cried, "thou art ours at need +What Merlin saith we are fain to heed." +"Great worship shall ye win," said he, +"And look that ye do knightly now, +For great shall be your need, I trow." +And Balen smiled: "By knighthood's vow, +The best we may will we." + +Then Merlin bade them turn and take +Rest, for their good steeds' weary sake, +Between the highway and the brake, +Till starry midnight bade them wake: +Then "Rise," he said, "the king is nigh, +Who hath stolen from all his host away +With threescore horse in armed array, +The goodliest knights that bear his sway +And hold his kingdom high. + +"And twenty ride of them before +To bear his errand, ere the door +Turn of the night, sealed fast no more, +And sundawn bid the stars wax hoar; +For by the starshine of to-night +He seeks a leman where she waits +His coming, dark and swift as fate's, +And hearkens toward the unopening gates +That yield not him to sight. + +Then through the glimmering gloom around +A shadowy sense of light and sound +Made, ere the proof thereof were found, +The brave blithe hearts within them bound, +And "Where," quoth Balen, "rides the king?" +But softer spake the seer: "Abide, +Till hither toward your spears he ride, +Where all the narrowing woodland side +Grows dense with boughs that cling." + +There in that straitening way they met +The wild Welsh host against them set, +And smote their strong king down, ere yet +His hurrying horde of spears might get +Fierce vantage of them. Then the fight +Grew great and joyous as it grew, +For left and right those brethren slew, +Till all the lawn waxed red with dew +More deep than dews of night. + +And ere the full fierce tale was read +Full forty lay before them dead, +And fast the hurtling remnant fled +And wist not whither fear had led: +And toward the king they went again, +And would have slain him: but he bowed +Before them, crying in fear aloud +For grace they gave him, seeing the proud +Wild king brought lowest of men. + +And ere the wildwood leaves were stirred +With song or wing of wakening bird, +In Camelot was Merlin's word +With joy in joyous wonder heard +That told of Arthur's bitterest foe +Diskingdomed and discomfited. +"By whom?" the high king smiled and said. +He answered: "Ere the dawn wax red, +To-morrow bids you know. + +"Two knights whose heart and hope are one +And fain to win your grace have done +This work whereby if grace be won +Their hearts shall hail the enkindling sun +With joy more keen and deep than day." +And ere the sundawn drank the dew +Those brethren with their prisoner drew +To the outer guard they gave him to +And passed again away. + +And Arthur came as toward his guest +To greet his foe, and bade him rest +As one returned from nobler quest +And welcome from the stormbright west, +But by what chance he fain would hear. +"The chance was hard and strange, sir king," +Quoth Ryons, bowed in thanksgiving. +"Who won you?" Arthur said: "the thing +Is worth a warrior's ear." + +The wild king flushed with pride and shame, +Answering: "I know not either name +Of those that there against us came +And withered all our strength like flame: +The knight that bears two swords is one, +And one his brother: not on earth +May men meet men of knightlier worth +Nor mightier born of mortal birth +That hail the sovereign sun." + +And Arthur said: "I know them not +But much am I for this, God wet, +Beholden to them: Launcelot +Nor Tristram, when the war waxed hot +Along the marches east and west, +Wrought ever nobler work than this." +"Ah," Merlin said, "sore pity it is +And strange mischance of doom, I wis, +That death should mar their quest. + +"Balen, the perfect knight that won +The sword whose name is malison, +And made his deed his doom, is one: +Nor hath his brother Balan done +Less royal service: not on earth +Lives there a nobler knight, more strong +Of soul to win men's praise in song, +Albeit the light abide not long +That lightened round his birth. + +"Yea, and of all sad things I know +The heaviest and the highest in woe +Is this, the doom whose date brings low +Too soon in timeless overthrow +A head so high, a hope so sure. +The greatest moan for any knight +That ever won fair fame in fight +Shall be for Balen, seeing his might +Must now not long endure." + +"Alas," King Arthur said, "he hath shown +Such love to me-ward that the moan +Made of him should be mine alone +Above all other, knowing it known +I have ill deserved it of him." "Nay," +Said Merlin, "he shall do for you +Much more, when time shall be anew, +Than time hath given him chance to do +Or hope may think to say. + +"But now must be your powers purveyed +To meet, ere noon of morn be made +To-morrow, all the host arrayed +Of this wild foe's wild brother, laid +Around against you: see to it well, +For now I part from you." And soon, +When sundawn slew the withering moon, +Two hosts were met to win the boon +Whose tale is death's to tell. + +A lordly tale of knights and lords +For death to tell by count of swords +When war's wild harp in all its chords +Rang royal triumph, and the hordes +Of hurtling foemen rocked and reeled +As waves wind-thwarted on the sea, +Was told of all that there might be, +Till scarce might battle hear or see +The fortune of the field. + +And many a knight won fame that day +When even the serpent soul of Kay +Was kindled toward the fiery play +As might a lion's be for prey, +And won him fame that might not die +With passing of his rancorous breath +But clung about his life and death +As fire that speaks in cloud, and saith +What strong men hear and fly. + +And glorious works were Arthur's there, +That lit the battle-darkened air: +But when they saw before them fare +Like stars of storm the knight that bare +Two swords about him girt for fray, +Balen, and Balan with him, then +Strong wonder smote the souls of men +If heaven's own host or hell's deep den +Had sent them forth to slay. + +So keen they rode across the fight, +So sharp they smote to left and right, +And made of hurtling darkness light +With lightning of their swords, till flight +And fear before them flew like flame, +That Arthur's self had never known, +He said, since first his blast was blown, +Such lords of war as these alone +That whence he knew not came. + +But while the fire of war waxed hot +The wild king hearkened, hearing not, +Through storm of spears and arrow-shot, +For succour toward him from King Lot +And all his host of sea-born men, +Strong as the strong storm-baffling bird +Whose cry round Orkney's headlands heard +Is as the sea's own sovereign word +That mocks our mortal ken. + +For Merlin's craft of prophecy, +Who wist that one of twain must die, +Put might in him to say thereby +Which head should lose its crown, and lie +Stricken, though loth he were to know +That either life should wane and fail; +Yet most might Arthur's love avail, +And still with subtly tempered tale +His wile held fast the foe. + +With woven words of magic might +Wherein the subtle shadow and light +Changed hope and fear till fear took flight, +He stayed King Lot's fierce lust of fight +Till all the wild Welsh war was driven +As foam before the wind that wakes +With the all-awakening sun, and breaks +Strong ships that rue the mirth it makes +When grace to slay is given. + +And ever hotter lit and higher, +As fire that meets encountering fire, +Waxed in King Lot his keen desire +To bid revenge within him tire +On Arthur's ravaged fame and life: +Across the waves of war between +Floated and flashed, unseen and seen, +The lustrous likeness of the queen +Whom shame had sealed his wife. + +But when the woful word was brought +That while he tarried, doubting nought, +The hope was lost whose goal he sought +And all the fight he yearned for fought, +His heart was rent for grief and shame, +And half his hope was set on flight +Till word was given him of a knight +Who said: "They are weary and worn with fight, +And we more fresh than flame." + +And bright and dark as night and day +Ere either find the unopening way +Clear, and forego the unaltering sway, +The sad king's face shone, frowning: "Yea, +I would that every knight of mine +Would do his part as I shall do," +He said, "till death or life anew +Shall judge between us as is due +With wiser doom than thine." + +Then thundered all the awakening field +With crash of hosts that clashed and reeled, +Banner to banner, shield to shield, +And spear to splintering spear-shaft, steeled +As heart against high heart of man, +As hope against high hope of knight +To pluck the crest and crown of fight +From war's clenched hand by storm's wild light, +For blessing given or ban. + +All hearts of hearkening men that heard +The ban twin-born with blessing, stirred +Like springtide waters, knew the word +Whereby the steeds of storm are spurred +With ravenous rapture to destroy, +And laughed for love of battle, pierced +With passion of tempestuous thirst +And hungering hope to assuage it first +With draughts of stormy joy. + +But sheer ahead of the iron tide +That rocked and roared from side to side +Rode as the lightning's lord might ride +King Lot, whose heart was set to abide +All peril of the raging hour, +And all his host of warriors born +Where lands by warring seas are worn +Was only by his hands upborne +Who gave them pride and power. + +But as the sea's hand smites the shore +And shatters all the strengths that bore +The ravage earth may bear no more, +So smote the hand of Pellinore +Charging, a knight of Arthur's chief, +And clove his strong steed's neck in twain, +And smote him sheer through brow and brain, +Falling: and there King Lot lay slain, +And knew not wrath or grief. + +And all the host of Orkney fled, +And many a mother's son lay dead: +But when they raised the stricken head +Whence pride and power and shame were fled +And rage and anguish now cast out, +And bore it toward a kingly tomb, +The wife whose love had wrought his doom +Came thither, fair as morning's bloom +And dark as twilight's doubt. + +And there her four strong sons and his, +Gawain and Gareth, Gaherys +And Agravain, whose sword's sharp kiss +With sound of hell's own serpent's hiss +Should one day turn her life to death, +Stood mourning with her: but by these +Seeing Mordred as a seer that sees, +Anguish of terror bent her knees +And caught her shuddering breath. + +The splendour of her sovereign eyes +Flashed darkness deeper than the skies +Feel or fear when the sunset dies +On his that felt as midnight rise +Their doom upon them, there undone +By faith in fear ere thought could yield +A shadowy sense of days revealed, +The ravin of the final field, +The terror of their son. + +For Arthur's, as they caught the light +That sought and durst not seek his sight, +Darkened, and all his spirit's might +Withered within him even as night +Withers when sunrise thrills the sea. +But Mordred's lightened as with fire +That smote his mother and his sire +With darkling doom and deep desire +That bade its darkness be. + +And heavier on their hearts the weight +Sank of the fear that brings forth fate, +The bitter doubt whose womb is great +With all the grief and love and hate +That turn to fire men's days on earth. +And glorious was the funeral made, +And dark the deepening dread that swayed +Their darkening souls whose light grew shade +With sense of death in birth. + + + +VI + + + +In autumn, when the wind and sea +Rejoice to live and laugh to be, +And scarce the blast that curbs the tree +And bids before it quail and flee +The fiery foliage, where its brand +Is radiant as the seal of spring, +Sounds less delight, and waves a wing +Less lustrous, life's loud thanksgiving +Puts life in sea and land. + +High hope in Balen's heart alight +Laughed, as from all that clamorous fight +He passed and sought not Arthur's sight, +Who fain had found his kingliest knight +And made amend for Balen's wrong. +But Merlin gave his soul to see +Fate, rising as a shoreward sea, +And all the sorrow that should be +Ere hope or fear thought long. + +"O where are they whose hands upbore +My battle," Arthur said, "before +The wild Welsh host's wide rage and roar? +Balen and Balan, Pellinore, +Where are they?" Merlin answered him: +"Balen shall be not long away +From sight of you, but night nor day +Shall bring his brother back to say +If life burn bright or dim." + +"Now, by my faith," said Arthur then, +"Two marvellous knights are they, whose ken +Toward battle makes the twain as ten, +And Balen most of all born men +Passeth of prowess all I know +Or ever found or sought to see: +Would God he would abide with me, +To face the times foretold of thee +And all the latter woe." + +For there had Merlin shown the king +The doom that songs unborn should sing, +The gifts that time should rise and bring +Of blithe and bitter days to spring +As weeds and flowers against the sun. +And on the king for fear's sake fell +Sickness, and sorrow deep as hell, +Nor even might sleep bid fear farewell +If grace to sleep were won. + +Down in a meadow green and still +He bade the folk that wrought his will +Pitch his pavilion, where the chill +Soft night would let not rest fulfil +His heart wherein dark fears lay deep. +And sharp against his hearing cast +Came a sound as of horsehoofs fast +Passing, that ere their sound were past +Aroused him as from sleep. + +And forth he looked along the grass +And saw before his portal pass +A knight that wailed aloud, "Alas +That life should find this dolorous pass +And find no shield from doom and dole!" +And hearing all his moan, "Abide, +Fair sir," the king arose and cried, +"And say what sorrow bids you ride +So sorrowful of soul." + +"My hurt may no man heal, God wot, +And help of man may speed me not," +The sad knight said, "nor change my lot." +And toward the castle of Melyot +Whose towers arose a league away +He passed forth sorrowing: and anon, +Ere well the woful sight were gone, +Came Balen down the meads that shone, +Strong, bright, and brave as day. + +And seeing the king there stand, the knight +Drew rein before his face to alight +In reverence made for love's sake bright +With joy that set his face alight +As theirs who see, alive, above, +The sovereign of their souls, whose name +To them is even as love's own flame +To enkindle hope that heeds not fame +And knows no lord but love. + +And Arthur smiled on him, and said, +"Right welcome be thou: by my head, +I would not wish me better sped. +For even but now there came and fled +Before me like a cloud that flies +A knight that made most heavy cheer, +I know not wherefore; nor may fear +Or pity give my heart to hear +Or lighten on mine eyes. + +"But even for fear's and pity's sake +Fain were I thou shouldst overtake +And fetch again this knight that spake +No word of answering grace to make +Reply to mine that hailed him: thou, +By force or by goodwill, shalt bring +His face before me." "Yea, my king," +Quoth Balen, "and a greater thing +Were less than is my vow. + +"I would the task required and heard +Were heavier than your sovereign word +Hath laid on me:" and thence he spurred +Elate at heart as youth, and stirred +With hope as blithe as fires a boy: +And many a mile he rode, and found +Far in a forest's glimmering bound +The man he sought afar around +And seeing took fire for joy. + +And with him went a maiden, fair +As flowers aflush with April air. +And Balen bade him turn him there +To tell the king what woes they were +That bowed him down so sore: and he +Made woeful answer: "This should do +Great scathe to me, with nought for you +Of help that hope might hearken to +For boot that may not be." + +And Balen answered: "I were loth +To fight as one perforce made wroth +With one that owes by knighthood's oath +One love, one service, and one troth +With me to him whose gracious hand +Holds fast the helm of knighthood here +Whereby man's hope and heart may steer: +I pray you let not sorrow or fear +Against his bidding stand." + +The strange knight gazed on him, and spake: +"Will you, for Arthur's royal sake, +Be warrant for me that I take +No scathe from strife that man may make? +Then will I go with you." And he +Made joyous answer: "Yea, for I +Will be your warrant or will die." +And thence they rode with hearts as high +As men's that search the sea. + +And as by noon's large light the twain +Before the tented hall drew rein, +Suddenly fell the strange knight, slain +By one that came and went again +And none might see him; but his spear +Clove through the body, swift as fire, +The man whose doom, forefelt as dire, +Had darkened all his life's desire, +As one that death held dear. + +And dying he turned his face and said, +"Lo now thy warrant that my head +Should fall not, following forth where led +A knight whose pledge hath left me dead. +This darkling manslayer hath to name +Garlon: take thou my goodlier steed, +Seeing thine is less of strength and speed, +And ride, if thou be knight indeed, +Even thither whence we came. + +"And as the maiden's fair behest +Shall bid you follow on my quest, +Follow: and when God's will sees best, +Revenge my death, and let me rest +As one that lived and died a knight, +Unstained of shame alive or dead." +And Balen, wrung with sorrow, said, +"That shall I do: my hand and head +I pledge to do you right." + +And thence with sorrowing heart and cheer +He rode, in grief that cast out fear +Lest death in darkness yet were near, +And bore the truncheon of the spear +Wherewith the woful knight lay slain +To her with whom he rode, and she +Still bare it with her, fain to see +What righteous doom of God's might be +The darkling manslayer's bane. + +And down a dim deep woodland way +They rode between the boughs asway +With flickering winds whose flash and play +Made sunlight sunnier where the day +Laughed, leapt, and fluttered like a bird +Caught in a light loose leafy net +That earth for amorous heaven had set +To hold and see the sundawn yet +And hear what morning heard. + +There in the sweet soft shifting light +Across their passage rode a knight +Flushed hot from hunting as from fight, +And seeing the sorrow-stricken sight +Made question of them why they rode +As mourners sick at heart and sad, +When all alive about them bade +Sweet earth for heaven's sweet sake be glad +As heaven for earth's love glowed. + +"Me lists not tell you," Balen said. +The strange knight's face grew keen and red +"Now, might my hand but keep my head, +Even here should one of twain lie dead +Were he no better armed than I." +And Balen spake with smiling speed, +Where scorn and courtesy kept heed +Of either: "That should little need: +Not here shall either die." + +And all the cause he told him through +As one that feared not though he knew +All: and the strange knight spake anew, +Saying: "I will part no more from you +While life shall last me." So they went +Where he might arm himself to ride, +And rode across wild ways and wide +To where against a churchyard side +A hermit's harbour leant. + +And there against them riding came +Fleet as the lightning's laugh and flame +The invisible evil, even the same +They sought and might not curse by name +As hell's foul child on earth set free, +And smote the strange knight through, and fled, +And left the mourners by the dead. +"Alas, again," Sir Balen said, +"This wrong he hath done to me." + +And there they laid their dead to sleep +Royally, lying where wild winds keep +Keen watch and wail more soft and deep +Than where men's choirs bid music weep +And song like incense heave and swell. +And forth again they rode, and found +Before them, dire in sight and sound, +A castle girt about and bound +With sorrow like a spell. + +Above it seemed the sun at noon +Sad as a wintry withering moon +That shudders while the waste wind's tune +Craves ever none may guess what boon, +But all may know the boon for dire. +And evening on its darkness fell +More dark than very death's farewell, +And night about it hung like hell, +Whose fume the dawn made fire. + +And Balen lighted down and passed +Within the gateway, whence no blast +Rang as the sheer portcullis, cast +Suddenly down, fell, and made fast +The gate behind him, whence he spied +A sudden rage of men without +And ravin of a murderous rout +That girt the maiden hard about +With death on either side. + +And seeing that shame and peril, fear +Bade wrath and grief awake and hear +What shame should say in fame's wide ear +If she, by sorrow sealed more dear +Than joy might make her, so should die: +And up the tower's curled stair he sprang +As one that flies death's deadliest fang, +And leapt right out amid their gang +As fire from heaven on high. + +And they thereunder seeing the knight +Unhurt among their press alight +And bare his sword for chance of fight +Stood from him, loth to strive or smite, +And bade him hear their woful word, +That not the maiden's death they sought; +But there through years too dire for thought +Had lain their lady stricken, and nought +Might heal her: and he heard. + +For there a maiden clean and whole +In virgin body and virgin soul, +Whose name was writ on royal roll, +That would but stain a silver bowl +With offering of her stainless blood, +Therewith might heal her: so they stayed +For hope's sad sake each blameless maid +There journeying in that dolorous shade +Whose bloom was bright in bud. + +No hurt nor harm to her it were +If she should yield a sister there +Some tribute of her blood, and fare +Forth with this joy at heart to bear, +That all unhurt and unafraid +This grace she had here by God's grace wrought. +And kindling all with kindly thought +And love that saw save love's self nought, +Shone, smiled, and spake the maid. + +"Good knight of mine, good will have I +To help this healing though I die." +"Nay," Balen said, "but love may try +What help in living love may lie. +- I will not lose the life of her +While my life lasteth." So she gave +The tribute love was fain to crave, +But might not heal though fain to save, +Were God's grace helpfuller. + +Another maid in later Mays +Won with her life that woful praise, +And died. But they, when surging day's +Deep tide fulfilled the dawn's wide ways, +Rode forth, and found by day or night +No chance to cross their wayfaring +Till when they saw the fourth day spring +A knight's hall gave them harbouring +Rich as a king's house might. + +And while they sat at meat and spake +Words bright and kind as grace might make +Sweet for true knighthood's kindly sake, +They heard a cry beside them break +The still-souled joy of blameless rest. +"What noise is this?" quoth Balen. "Nay," +His knightly host made answer, "may +Our grief not grieve you though I say +How here I dwell unblest. + +"Not many a day has lived and died +Since at a tournay late I tried +My strength to smite and turn and ride +Against a knight of kinglike pride, +King Pellam's brother: twice I smote +The splendour of his strength to dust: +And he, fulfilled of hate's fierce lust, +Swore vengeance, pledged for hell to trust, +And keen as hell's wide throat. + +"Invisible as the spirit of night +That heaven and earth in depth and height +May see not by the mild moon's light +Nor even when stars would grant them sight, +He walks and slays as plague's blind breath +Slays: and my son, whose anguish here +Makes moan perforce that mars our cheer, +He wounded, even ere love might fear +That hate were strong as death. + +"Nor may my son be whole till he +Whose stroke through him hath stricken me +Shall give again his blood to be +Our healing: yet may no man see +This felon, clothed with darkness round +And keen as lightning's life." Thereon +Spake Balen, and his presence shone +Even as the sun's when stars are gone +That hear dawn's trumpet sound. + +"That knight I know: two knights of mine, +Two comrades, sealed by faith's bright sign, +Whose eyes as ours that live should shine, +And drink the golden sunlight's wine +With joy's thanksgiving that they live, +He hath slain in even the same blind wise: +Were all wide wealth beneath the skies +Mine, might I meet him, eyes on eyes, +All would I laugh to give." + +His host made answer, and his gaze +Grew bright with trust as dawn's moist maze +With fire: "Within these twenty days, +King Pellam, lord of Lystenayse, +Holds feast through all this country cried, +And there before the knightly king +May no knight come except he bring +For witness of his wayfaring +His paramour or bride. + +"And there that day, so soon to shine, +This knight, your felon foe and mine, +Shall show, full-flushed with bloodred wine, +The fierce false face whereon we pine +To wreak the wrong he hath wrought us, bare +As shame should see and brand it." "Then," +Said Balen, "shall he give again +His blood to heal your son, and men +Shall see death blind him there." + +"Forth will we fare to-morrow," said +His host: and forth, as sunrise led, +They rode; and fifteen days were fled +Ere toward their goal their steeds had sped. +And there alighting might they find +For Balen's host no place to rest, +Who came without a gentler guest +Beside him: and that household's hest +Bade leave his sword behind. + +"Nay," Balen said, "that do I not: +My country's custom stands, God wot, +That none whose lot is knighthood's lot, +To ride where chance as fire is hot +With hope or promise given of fight, +Shall fail to keep, for knighthood's part, +His weapon with him as his heart; +And as I came will I depart, +Or hold herein my right." + +Then gat he leave to wear his sword +Beside the strange king's festal board +Where feasted many a knight and lord +In seemliness of fair accord: +And Balen asked of one beside, +"Is there not in this court, if fame +Keep faith, a knight that hath to name +Garlon?" and saying that word of shame, +He scanned that place of pride. + +"Yonder he goeth against the light, +He with the face as swart as night," +Quoth the other: "but he rides to fight +Hid round by charms from all men's sight, +And many a noble knight he hath slain, +Being wrapt in darkness deep as hell +And silence dark as shame." "Ah, well," +Said Balen, "is that he? the spell +May be the sorcerer's bane." + +Then Balen gazed upon him long, +And thought, "If here I wreak my wrong, +Alive I may not scape, so strong +The felon's friends about him throng; +And if I leave him here alive, +This chance perchance may life not give +Again: much evil, if he live, +He needs must do, should fear forgive +When wrongs bid strike and strive." + +And Garlon, seeing how Balen's eye +Dwelt on him as his heart waxed high +With joy in wrath to see him nigh, +Rose wolf-like with a wolfish cry +And crossed and smote him on the face, +Saying, "Knight, what wouldst thou with me? Eat, +For shame, and gaze not: eat thy meat +Do that thou art come for: stands thy seat +Next ours of royal race?" + +"Well hast thou said: thy rede rings true; +That which I came for will I do," +Quoth Balen: forth his fleet sword flew, +And clove the head of Garlon through +Clean to the shoulders. Then he cried +Loud to his lady, "Give me here +The truncheon of the shameful spear +Wherewith he slew your knight, when fear +Bade hate in darkness ride." + +And gladly, bright with grief made glad, +She gave the truncheon as he bade, +For still she bare it with her, sad +And strong in hopeless hope she had, +Through all dark days of thwarting fear, +To see if doom should fall aright +And as God's fire-fraught thunder smite +That head, clothed round with hell-faced night, +Bare now before her here. + +And Balen smote therewith the dead +Dark felon's body through, and said +Aloud, "With even this truncheon, red +With baser blood than brave men bled +Whom in thy shameful hand it slew, +Thou hast slain a nobler knight, and now +It clings and cleaves thy body: thou +Shall cleave again no brave man's brow, +Though hell would aid anew." + +And toward his host he turned and spake; +"Now for your son's long-suffering sake +Blood ye may fetch enough, and take +Wherewith to heal his hurt, and make +Death warm as life." Then rose a cry +Loud as the wind's when stormy spring +Makes all the woodland rage and ring: +"Thou hast slain my brother," said the king, +"And here with him shalt die." + +"Ay?" Balen laughed him answer. "Well, +Do it then thyself." And the answer fell +Fierce as a blast of hate from hell, +"No man of mine that with me dwell +Shall strike at thee but I their lord +For love of this my brother slain." +And Pellam caught and grasped amain +A grim great weapon, fierce and fain +To feed his hungering sword. + +And eagerly he smote, and sped +Not well: for Balen's blade, yet red +With lifeblood of the murderous dead, +Between the swordstroke and his head +Shone, and the strength of the eager stroke +Shore it in sunder: then the knight, +Naked and weaponless for fight, +Ran seeking him a sword to smite +As hope within him woke. + +And so their flight for deathward fast +From chamber forth to chamber passed +Where lay no weapon, till the last +Whose doors made way for Balen cast +Upon him as a sudden spell +Wonder that even as lightning leapt +Across his heart and eyes, and swept +As storm across his soul that kept +Wild watch, and watched not well. + +For there the deed he did, being near +Death's danger, breathless as the deer +Driven hard to bay, but void of fear, +Brought sorrow down for many a year +On many a man in many a land. +All glorious shone that chamber, bright +As burns at sunrise heaven's own height: +With cloth of gold the bed was dight, +That flamed on either hand. + +And one he saw within it lie: +A table of all clear gold thereby +Stood stately, fair as morning's eye, +With four strong silver pillars, high +And firm as faith and hope may be: +And on it shone the gift he sought, +A spear most marvellously wrought, +That when his eye and handgrip caught +Small fear at heart had he. + +Right on King Pellam then, as fire +Turns when the thwarting winds wax higher, +He turned, and smote him down. So dire +The stroke was, when his heart's desire +Struck, and had all its fill of hate, +That as the king fell swooning down +Fell the walls, rent from base to crown, +Prone as prone seas that break and drown +Ships fraught with doom for freight. + +And there for three days' silent space +Balen and Pellam face to face +Lay dead or deathlike, and the place +Was death's blind kingdom, till the grace +That God had given the sacred seer +For counsel or for comfort led +His Merlin thither, and he said, +Standing between the quick and dead, +"Rise up, and rest not here." + +And Balen rose and set his eyes +Against the seer's as one that tries +His heart against the sea's and sky's +And fears not if he lives or dies, +Saying, "I would have my damosel, +Ere I fare forth, to fare with me." +And sadly Merlin answered, "See +Where now she lies; death knows if she +Shall now fare ill or well. + +"And in this world we meet no more, +Balen." And Balen, sorrowing sore, +Though fearless yet the heart he bore +Beat toward the life that lay before, +Rode forth through many a wild waste land +Where men cried out against him, mad +With grievous faith in fear that bade +Their wrath make moan for doubt they had +Lest hell had armed his hand. + +For in that chamber's wondrous shrine +Was part of Christ's own blood, the wine +Shed of the true triumphal vine +Whose growth bids earth's deep darkness shine +As heaven's deep light through the air and sea; +That mystery toward our northern shore +Arimathean Joseph bore +For healing of our sins of yore, +That grace even there might be. + +And with that spear there shrined apart +Was Christ's side smitten to the heart. +And fiercer than the lightning's dart +The stroke was, and the deathlike smart +Wherewith, nigh drained of blood and breath, +The king lay stricken as one long dead: +And Joseph's was the blood there shed, +For near akin was he that bled, +Near even as life to death. + +And therefore fell on all that land +Sorrow: for still on either hand, +As Balen rode alone and scanned +Bright fields and cities built to stand +Till time should break them, dead men lay; +And loud and long from all their folk +Living, one cry that cursed him broke; +Three countries had his dolorous stroke +Slain, or should surely slay. + + + +VII + + + +In winter, when the year burns low +As fire wherein no firebrands glow, +And winds dishevel as they blow +The lovely stormy wings of snow, +The hearts of northern men burn bright +With joy that mocks the joy of spring +To hear all heaven's keen clarions ring +Music that bids the spirit sing +And day give thanks for night. + +Aloud and dark as hell or hate +Round Balen's head the wind of fate +Blew storm and cloud from death's wide gate: +But joy as grief in him was great +To face God's doom and live or die, +Sorrowing for ill wrought unaware, +Rejoicing in desire to dare +All ill that innocence might bear +With changeless heart and eye. + +Yet passing fain he was when past +Those lands and woes at length and last. +Eight times, as thence he fared forth fast, +Dawn rose and even was overcast +With starry darkness dear as day, +Before his venturous quest might meet +Adventure, seeing within a sweet +Green low-lying forest, hushed in heat, +A tower that barred his way. + +Strong summer, dumb with rapture, bound +With golden calm the woodlands round +Wherethrough the knight forth faring found +A knight that on the greenwood ground +Sat mourning: fair he was to see, +And moulded as for love or fight +A maiden's dreams might frame her knight; +But sad in joy's far-flowering sight +As grief's blind thrall might be. + +"God save you," Balen softly said, +"What grief bows down your heart and head +Thus, as one sorrowing for his dead? +Tell me, if haply I may stead +In aught your sorrow, that I may." +"Sir knight," that other said, "thy word +Makes my grief heavier that I heard." +And pity and wonder inly stirred +Drew Balen thence away. + +And so withdrawn with silent speed +He saw the sad knight's stately steed, +A war-horse meet for warrior's need, +That none who passed might choose but heed, +So strong he stood, so great, so fair, +With eyes afire for flight or fight, +A joy to look on, mild in might, +And swift and keen and kind as light, +And all as clear of care. + +And Balen, gazing on him, heard +Again his master's woful word +Sound sorrow through the calm unstirred +By fluttering wind or flickering bird, +Thus: "Ah, fair lady and faithless, why +Break thy pledged faith to meet me? soon +An hour beyond thy trothplight noon +Shall strike my death-bell, and thy boon +Is this, that here I die. + +"My curse for all thy gifts may be +Heavier than death or night on thee; +For now this sword thou gavest me +Shall set me from thy bondage free." +And there the man had died self-slain, +But Balen leapt on him and caught +The blind fierce hand that fain had wrought +Self-murder, stung with fire of thought, +As rage makes anguish fain. + +Then, mad for thwarted grief, "Let go +My hand," the fool of wrath and woe +Cried, "or I slay thee." Scarce the glow +In Balen's cheek and eye might show, +As dawn shows day while seas lie chill, +He heard, though pity took not heed, +But smiled and spake, "That shall not need: +What man may do to bid you speed +I, so God speed me, will." + +And the other craved his name, beguiled +By hope that made his madness mild. +Again Sir Balen spake and smiled: +"My name is Balen, called the Wild +By knights whom kings and courts make tame +Because I ride alone afar +And follow but my soul for star." +"Ah, sir, I know the knight you are +And all your fiery fame. + +"The knight that bears two swords I know, +Most praised of all men, friend and foe, +For prowess of your hands, that show +Dark war the way where balefires glow +And kindle glory like the dawn's." +So spake the sorrowing knight, and stood +As one whose heart fresh hope made good: +And forth they rode by wold and wood +And down the glimmering lawns. + +And Balen craved his name who rode +Beside him, where the wild wood glowed +With joy to feel how noontide flowed +Through glade and glen and rough green road +Till earth grew joyful as the sea. +"My name is Garnysshe of the Mount, +A poor man's son of none account," +He said, "where springs of loftier fount +Laugh loud with pride to be. + +"But strength in weakness lives and stands +As rocks that rise through shifting sands; +And for the prowess of my hands +One made me knight and gave me lands, +Duke Hermel, lord from far to near, +Our prince; and she that loved me--she +I love, and deemed she loved but me, +His daughter, pledged her faith to be +Ere now beside me here." + +And Balen, brief of speech as light +Whose word, beheld of depth and height, +Strikes silence through the stars of night, +Spake, and his face as dawn's grew bright, +For hope to help a happier man, +"How far then lies she hence?" "By this," +Her lover sighed and said, "I wis, +Not six fleet miles the passage is, +And straight as thought could span." + +So rode they swift and sure, and found +A castle walled and dyked around: +And Balen, as a warrior bound +On search where hope might fear to sound +The darkness of the deeps of doubt, +Made entrance through the guardless gate +As life, while hope in life grows great, +Makes way between the doors of fate +That death may pass thereout. + +Through many a glorious chamber, wrought +For all delight that love's own thought +Might dream or dwell in, Balen sought +And found of all he looked for nought, +For like a shining shell her bed +Shone void and vacant of her: thence +Through devious wonders bright and dense +He passed and saw with shame-struck sense +Where shame and faith lay dead. + +Down in a sweet small garden, fair +With flowerful joy in the ardent air, +He saw, and raged with loathing, where +She lay with love-dishevelled hair +Beneath a broad bright laurel tree +And clasped in amorous arms a knight, +The unloveliest that his scornful sight +Had dwelt on yet; a shame the bright +Broad noon might shrink to see. + +And thence in wrathful hope he turned, +Hot as the heart within him burned, +To meet the knight whose love, so spurned +And spat on and made nought of, yearned +And dreamed and hoped and lived in vain, +And said, "I have found her sleeping fast," +And led him where the shadows cast +From leaves wherethrough light winds ran past +Screened her from sun and rain. + +But Garnysshe, seeing, reeled as he stood +Like a tree, kingliest of the wood, +Half hewn through: and the burning blood +Through lips and nostrils burst aflood: +And gathering back his rage and might +As broken breakers rally and roar +The loud wind down that drives off shore, +He smote their heads off: there no more +Their life might shame the light. + +Then turned he back toward Balen, mad +With grief, and said, "The grief I had +Was nought: ere this my life was glad: +Thou hast done this deed: I was but sad +And fearful how my hope might fare: +I had lived my sorrow down, hadst thou +Not shown me what I saw but now." +The sorrow and scorn on Balen's brow +Bade silence curb him there. + +And Balen answered: "What I did +I did to hearten thee and bid +Thy courage know that shame should rid +A man's high heart of love that hid +Blind shame within its core: God knows, +I did, to set a bondman free, +But as I would thou hadst done by me, +That seeing what love must die to see +Love's end might well be woe's." + +"Alas," the woful weakling said, +"I have slain what most I loved: I have shed +The blood most near my heart: the head +Lies cold as earth, defiled and dead, +That all my life was lighted by, +That all my soul bowed down before, +And now may bear with life no more: +For now my sorrow that I bore +Is twofold, and I die." + +Then with his red wet sword he rove +His breast in sunder, where it clove +Life, and no pulse against it strove, +So sure and strong the deep stroke drove +Deathward: and Balen, seeing him dead, +Rode thence, lest folk would say he had slain +Those three; and ere three days again +Had seen the sun's might wax and wane, +Far forth he had spurred and sped. + +And riding past a cross whereon +Broad golden letters written shone, +Saying, "No knight born may ride alone +Forth toward this castle," and all the stone +Glowed in the sun's glare even as though +Blood stained it from the crucified +Dead burden of one that there had died, +An old hoar man he saw beside +Whose face was wan as woe. + +"Balen the Wild," he said, "this way +Thy way lies not: thou hast passed to-day +Thy bands: but turn again, and stay +Thy passage, while thy soul hath sway +Within thee, and through God's good power +It will avail thee:" and anon +His likeness as a cloud was gone, +And Balen's heart within him shone +Clear as the cloudless hour. + +Nor fate nor fear might overcast +The soul now near its peace at last. +Suddenly, thence as forth he past, +A mighty and a deadly blast +Blown of a hunting-horn he heard, +As when the chase hath nobly sped. +"That blast is blown for me," he said, +"The prize am I who am yet not dead," +And smiled upon the word. + +As toward a royal hart's death rang +That note, whence all the loud wood sang +With winged and living sound that sprang +Like fire, and keen as fire's own fang +Pierced the sweet silence that it slew. +But nought like death or strife was here: +Fair semblance and most goodly cheer +They made him, they whose troop drew near +As death among them drew. + +A hundred ladies well arrayed +And many a knight well weaponed made +That kindly show of cheer: the glade +Shone round them till its very shade +Lightened and laughed from grove to lawn +To hear and see them: so they brought +Within a castle fair as thought +Could dream that wizard hands had wrought +The guest among them drawn. + +All manner of glorious joy was there: +Harping and dancing, loud and fair, +And minstrelsy that made of air +Fire, so like fire its raptures were. +Then the chief lady spake on high: +"Knight with the two swords, one of two +Must help you here or fall from you: +For needs you now must have ado +And joust with one hereby. + +"A good knight guards an island here +Against all swords that chance brings near, +And there with stroke of sword and spear +Must all for whom these halls make cheer +Fight, and redeem or yield up life." +"An evil custom," Balen said, +"Is this, that none whom chance hath led +Hither, if knighthood crown his head, +May pass unstirred to strife." + +"You shall not have ado to fight +Here save against one only knight," +She said, and all her face grew bright +As hell-fire, lit with hungry light +That wicked laughter touched with flame. +"Well, since I shall thereto," said he, +"I am ready at heart as death for me: +Fain would I be where death should be +And life should lose its name. + +"But travelling men whose goal afar +Shines as a cloud-constraining star +Are often weary, and wearier are +Their steeds that feel each fret and jar +Wherewith the wild ways wound them: yet, +Albeit my horse be weary, still +My heart is nowise weary; will +Sustains it even till death fulfil +My trust upon him set." + +"Sir," said a knight thereby that stood, +"Meseems your shield is now not good +But worn with warrior work, nor could +Sustain in strife the strokes it would: +A larger will I lend you." "Ay, +Thereof I thank you," Balen said, +Being single of heart as one that read +No face aright whence faith had fled, +Nor dreamed that faith could fly. + +And so he took that shield unknown +And left for treason's touch his own, +And toward that island rode alone, +Nor heard the blast against him blown +Sound in the wind's and water's sound, +But hearkening toward the stream's edge heard +Nought save the soft stream's rippling word, +Glad with the gladness of a bird, +That sang to the air around. + +And there against the water-side +He saw, fast moored to rock and ride, +A fair great boat anear abide +Like one that waits the turning tide, +Wherein embarked his horse and he +Passed over toward no kindly strand: +And where they stood again on land +There stood a maiden hard at hand +Who seeing them wept to see. + +And "O knight Balen," was her cry, +"Why have ye left your own shield? why +Come hither out of time to die? +For had ye kept your shield, thereby +Ye had yet been known, and died not here. +Great pity it is of you this day +As ever was of knight, or may +Be ever, seeing in war's bright way +Praise knows not Balen's peer." + +And Balen said, "Thou hast heard my name +Right: it repenteth me, though shame +May tax me not with base men's blame, +That ever, hap what will, I came +Within this country; yet, being come, +For shame I may not turn again +Now, that myself and nobler men +May scorn me: now is more than then, +And faith bids fear be dumb. + +"Be it life or death, my chance I take, +Be it life's to build or death's to break: +And fall what may, me lists not make +Moan for sad life's or death's sad sake." +Then looked he on his armour, glad +And high of heart, and found it strong: +And all his soul became a song +And soared in prayer that soared not long, +For all the hope it had. + +Then saw he whence against him came +A steed whose trappings shone like flame, +And he that rode him showed the same +Fierce colour, bright as fire or fame, +But dark the visors were as night +That hid from Balen Balan's face, +And his from Balan: God's own grace +Forsook them for a shadowy space +Where darkness cast out light. + +The two swords girt that Balen bare +Gave Balan for a breath's while there +Pause, wondering if indeed it were +Balen his brother, bound to dare +The chance of that unhappy quest: +But seeing not as he thought to see +His shield, he deemed it was not he, +And so, as fate bade sorrow be, +They laid their spears in rest. + +So mighty was the course they ran +With spear to spear so great of span, +Each fell back stricken, man by man, +Horse by horse, borne down: so the ban +That wrought by doom against them wrought: +But Balen by his falling steed +Was bruised the sorer, being indeed +Way-weary, like a rain-bruised reed, +With travel ere he fought. + +And Balen rose again from swoon +First, and went toward him: all too soon +He too then rose, and the evil boon +Of strength came back, and the evil tune +Of battle unnatural made again +Mad music as for death's wide ear +Listening and hungering toward the near +Last sigh that life or death might hear +At last from dying men. + +Balan smote Balen first, and clove +His lifted shield that rose and strove +In vain against the stroke that drove +Down: as the web that morning wove +Of glimmering pearl from spray to spray +Dies when the strong sun strikes it, so +Shrank the steel, tempered thrice to show +Strength, as the mad might of the blow +Shore Balen's helm away. + +Then turning as a turning wave +Against the land-wind, blind and brave +In hope that dreams despair may save, +With even the unhappy sword that gave +The gifts of fame and fate in one +He smote his brother, and there had nigh +Felled him: and while they breathed, his eye +Glanced up, and saw beneath the sky +Sights fairer than the sun. + +The towers of all the castle there +Stood full of ladies, blithe and fair +As the earth beneath and the amorous air +About them and above them were: +So toward the blind and fateful fight +Again those brethren went, and sore +Were all the strokes they smote and bore, +And breathed again, and fell once more +To battle in their sight. + +With blood that either spilt and bled +Was all the ground they fought on red, +And each knight's hauberk hewn and shred +Left each unmailed and naked, shed +From off them even as mantles cast: +And oft they breathed, and drew but breath +Brief as the word strong sorrow saith, +And poured and drank the draught of death, +Till fate was full at last. + +And Balan, younger born than he +Whom darkness bade him slay, and be +Slain, as in mist where none may see +If aught abide or fall or flee, +Drew back a little and laid him down, +Dying: but Balen stood, and said, +As one between the quick and dead +Might stand and speak, "What good knight's head +Hath won this mortal crown? + +"What knight art thou? for never I +Who now beside thee dead shall die +Found yet the knight afar or nigh +That matched me." Then his brother's eye +Flashed pride and love; he spake and smiled +And felt in death life's quickening flame, +And answered: "Balan is my name, +The good knight Balen's brother; fame +Calls and miscalls him wild." + +The cry from Balen's lips that sprang +Sprang sharper than his sword's stroke rang. +More keen than death's or memory's fang, +Through sense and soul the shuddering pang +Shivered: and scarce he had cried, "Alas +That ever I should see this day," +When sorrow swooned from him away +As blindly back he fell, and lay +Where sleep lets anguish pass. + +But Balan rose on hands and knees +And crawled by childlike dim degrees +Up toward his brother, as a breeze +Creeps wingless over sluggard seas +When all the wind's heart fails it: so +Beneath their mother's eyes had he, +A babe that laughed with joy to be, +Made toward him standing by her knee +For love's sake long ago. + +Then, gathering strength up for a space, +From off his brother's dying face +With dying hands that wrought apace +While death and life would grant them grace +He loosed his helm and knew not him, +So scored with blood it was, and hewn +Athwart with darkening wounds: but soon +Life strove and shuddered through the swoon +Wherein its light lay dim. + +And sorrow set these chained words free: +"O Balan, O my brother! me +Thou hast slain, and I, my brother, thee +And now far hence, on shore and sea, +Shall all the wide world speak of us." +"Alas," said Balan, "that I might +Not know you, seeing two swords were dight +About you; now the unanswering sight +Hath here found answer thus. + +"Because you bore another shield +Than yours, that even ere youth could wield +Like arms with manhood's tried and steeled +Shone as my star of battle-field, +I deemed it surely might not be +My brother." Then his brother spake +Fiercely: "Would God, for thy sole sake, +I had my life again, to take +Revenge for only thee! + +"For all this deadly work was wrought +Of one false knight's false word and thought, +Whose mortal craft and counsel caught +And snared my faith who doubted nought, +And made me put my shield away. +Ah, might I live, I would destroy +That castle for its customs: joy +There makes of grief a deadly toy, +And death makes night of day." + +"Well done were that, if aught were done +Well ever here beneath the sun," +Said Balan: "better work were none: +For hither since I came and won +A woful honour born of death, +When here my hap it was to slay +A knight who kept this island way, +I might not pass by night or day +Hence, as this token saith. + +"No more shouldst thou, for all the might +Of heart and hand that seals thee knight +Most noble of all that see the light, +Brother, hadst thou but slain in fight +Me, and arisen unscathed and whole, +As would to God thou hadst risen! though here +Light is as darkness, hope as fear, +And love as hate: and none draws near +Save toward a mortal goal." + +Then, fair as any poison-flower +Whose blossom blights the withering bower +Whereon its blasting breath has power, +Forth fared the lady of the tower +With many a lady and many a knight, +And came across the water-way +Even where on death's dim border lay +Those brethren sent of her to slay +And die in kindless fight. + +And all those hard light hearts were swayed +With pity passing like a shade +That stays not, and may be not stayed, +To hear the mutual moan they made, +Each to behold his brother die, +Saying, "Both we came out of one tomb, +One star-crossed mother's woful womb, +And so within one grave-pit's gloom +Untimely shall we lie." + +And Balan prayed, as God should bless +That lady for her gentleness, +That where the battle's mortal stress +Had made for them perforce to press +The bed whence never man may rise +They twain, free now from hopes and fears, +Might sleep; and she, as one that hears, +Bowed her bright head: and very tears +Fell from her cold fierce eyes. + +Then Balen prayed her send a priest +To housel them, that ere they ceased +The hansel of the heavenly feast +That fills with light from the answering east +The sunset of the life of man +Might bless them, and their lips be kissed +With death's requickening eucharist, +And death's and life's dim sunlit mist +Pass as a stream that ran. + +And so their dying rites were done: +And Balen, seeing the death-struck sun +Sink, spake as he whose goal is won: +"Now, when our trophied tomb is one, +And over us our tale is writ, +How two that loved each other, two +Born and begotten brethren, slew +Each other, none that reads anew +Shall choose but weep for it. + +"And no good knight and no good man +Whose eye shall ever come to scan +The record of the imperious ban +That made our life so sad a span +Shall read or hear, who shall not pray +For us for ever." Then anon +Died Balan; but the sun was gone, +And deep the stars of midnight shone, +Ere Balen passed away. + +And there low lying, as hour on hour +Fled, all his life in all its flower +Came back as in a sunlit shower +Of dreams, when sweet-souled sleep has power +On life less sweet and glad to be. +He drank the draught of life's first wine +Again: he saw the moorland shine, +The rioting rapids of the Tyne, +The woods, the cliffs, the sea. + +The joy that lives at heart and home, +The joy to rest, the joy to roam, +The joy of crags and scaurs he clomb, +The rapture of the encountering foam +Embraced and breasted of the boy, +The first good steed his knees bestrode, +The first wild sound of songs that flowed +Through ears that thrilled and heart that glowed, +Fulfilled his death with joy. + +So, dying not as a coward that dies +And dares not look in death's dim eyes +Straight as the stars on seas and skies +Whence moon and sun recoil and rise, +He looked on life and death, and slept. +And there with morning Merlin came, +And on the tomb that told their fame +He wrote by Balan's Balen's name, +And gazed thereon, and wept. + +For all his heart within him yearned +With pity like as fire that burned. +The fate his fateful eye discerned +Far off now dimmed it, ere he turned +His face toward Camelot, to tell +Arthur of all the storms that woke +Round Balen, and the dolorous stroke, +And how that last blind battle broke +The consummated spell. + +"Alas," King Arthur said, "this day +I have heard the worst that woe might say: +For in this world that wanes away +I know not two such knights as they." +This is the tale that memory writes +Of men whose names like stars shall stand, +Balen and Balan, sure of hand, +Two brethren of Northumberland, +In life and death good knights. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Tale of Balen, by Swinburne + diff --git a/old/balen10.zip b/old/balen10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..11f5601 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/balen10.zip |