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