“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.”