Algernon Charles Swinburne

“ 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 to-day
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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.' ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.' ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.' ”

“ 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
Shalt cleave again no brave man's brow,
⁠Though hell would aid anew.'
And toward his host he turned and spake ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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? ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 ”

“ 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 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 ”

“ 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 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 ”

“ 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 ”

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