To till the wastes, and moving everywhere
Cleared the dark places and let in the law,
And broke the
bandit holds and cleansed the land.
Then, when Geraint was whole again, they past
With Arthur to Caerleon upon Usk.
There the great Queen once more embraced her friend,
And clothed her in
apparel like the day.
And though Geraint could never take again
That comfort from their
converse which he took
Before the Queen's fair name was breathed upon,
He rested well content that all was well.
Thence after tarrying for a space they rode,
And fifty
knights rode with them to the shores
Of Severn, and they past to their own land.
And there he kept the justice of the King
So
vigorously yet
mildly, that all hearts
Applauded, and the spiteful
whisper died:
And being ever
foremost in the chase,
And
victor at the tilt and tournament,
They called him the great Prince and man of men.
But Enid, whom her ladies loved to call
Enid the Fair, a
grateful people named
Enid the Good; and in their halls arose
The cry of children, Enids and Geraints
Of times to be; nor did he doubt her more,
But rested in her fealty, till he crowned
A happy life with a fair death, and fell
Against the
heathen of the Northern Sea
In battle, fighting for the
blameless King.
Balin and Balan
Pellam the King, who held and lost with Lot
In that first war, and had his realm restored
But rendered
tributary, failed of late
To send his
tribute;
wherefore Arthur called
His treasurer, one of many years, and spake,
'Go thou with him and him and bring it to us,
Lest we should set one truer on his throne.
Man's word is God in man.'
His Baron said
'We go but harken: there be two strange
knights
Who sit near Camelot at a fountain-side,
A mile beneath the forest, challenging
And overthrowing every
knight who comes.
Wilt thou I
undertake them as we pass,
And send them to thee?'
Arthur laughed upon him.
'Old friend, too old to be so young, depart,
Delay not thou for aught, but let them sit,
Until they find a lustier than themselves.'
So these
departed. Early, one fair dawn,
The light-winged spirit of his youth returned
On Arthur's heart; he armed himself and went,
So coming to the fountain-side beheld
Balin and Balan sitting statuelike,
Brethren, to right and left the spring, that down,
From
underneath a plume of lady-fern,
Sang, and the sand danced at the bottom of it.
And on the right of Balin Balin's horse
Was fast beside an alder, on the left
Of Balan Balan's near a poplartree.
'Fair Sirs,' said Arthur, '
wherefore sit ye here?'
Balin and Balan answered 'For the sake
Of glory; we be mightier men than all
In Arthur's court; that also have we proved;
For
whatsoeverknight against us came
Or I or he have easily overthrown.'
'I too,' said Arthur, 'am of Arthur's hall,
But rather proven in his Paynim wars
Than famous jousts; but see, or proven or not,
Whether me
likewise ye can overthrow.'
And Arthur
lightly smote the brethren down,
And
lightly so returned, and no man knew.
Then Balin rose, and Balan, and beside
The carolling water set themselves again,
And spake no word until the shadow turned;
When from the
fringe of coppice round them burst
A spangled pursuivant, and crying 'Sirs,
Rise, follow! ye be sent for by the King,'
They followed; whom when Arthur
seeing asked
'Tell me your names; why sat ye by the well?'
Balin the
stillness of a minute broke
Saying 'An unmelodious name to thee,
Balin, "the Savage"--that
addition thine--
My brother and my better, this man here,
Balan. I smote upon the naked skull
A
thrall of thine in open hall, my hand
Was gauntleted, half slew him; for I heard
He had
spoken evil of me; thy just wrath
Sent me a three-years' exile from thine eyes.
I have not lived my life delightsomely:
For I that did that
violence to thy
thrall,
Had often
wrought some fury on myself,
Saving for Balan: those three kingless years
Have past--were wormwood-bitter to me. King,
Methought that if we sat beside the well,
And hurled to ground what
knight soever spurred
Against us, thou would'st take me gladlier back,
And make, as ten-times worthier to be thine
Than twenty Balins, Balan
knight. I have said.
Not so--not all. A man of thine today
Abashed us both, and brake my boast. Thy will?'
Said Arthur 'Thou hast ever
spoken truth;
Thy too
fiercemanhood would not let thee lie.
Rise, my true
knight. As children learn, be thou
Wiser for falling! walk with me, and move
To music with thine Order and the King.
Thy chair, a grief to all the brethren, stands
Vacant, but thou retake it, mine again!'
Thereafter, when Sir Balin entered hall,
The Lost one Found was greeted as in Heaven
With joy that blazed itself in
woodland wealth
Of leaf, and gayest garlandage of flowers,
Along the walls and down the board; they sat,
And cup clashed cup; they drank and some one sang,
Sweet-voiced, a song of
welcome, whereupon
Their common shout in
chorus, mounting, made
Those banners of twelve battles overhead
Stir, as they stirred of old, when Arthur's host
Proclaimed him Victor, and the day was won.
Then Balan added to their Order lived
A wealthier life than
heretofore with these
And Balin, till their embassage returned.
'Sir King' they brought report 'we hardly found,
So bushed about it is with gloom, the hall
Of him to whom ye sent us, Pellam, once
A Christless foe of thine as ever dashed
Horse against horse; but
seeing that thy realm
Hath prospered in the name of Christ, the King
Took, as in rival heat, to holy things;
And finds himself descended from the Saint
Arimathaean Joseph; him who first
Brought the great faith to Britain over seas;
He boasts his life as purer than thine own;
Eats
scarce enow to keep his pulse abeat;
Hath pushed aside his
faithful wife, nor lets
Or dame or
damsel enter at his gates
Lest he should be polluted. This gray King
Showed us a
shrinewherein were wonders--yea--
Rich arks with
priceless bones of martyrdom,
Thorns of the crown and shivers of the cross,
And therewithal (for thus he told us) brought
By holy Joseph
thither, that same spear
Wherewith the Roman pierced the side of Christ.
He much amazed us; after, when we sought
The
tribute, answered "I have quite foregone
All matters of this world: Garlon, mine heir,
Of him demand it," which this Garlon gave
With much ado,
railing at thine and thee.
'But when we left, in those deep woods we found
A
knight of thine spear-stricken from behind,
Dead, whom we buried; more than one of us
Cried out on Garlon, but a
woodman there
Reported of some demon in the woods
Was once a man, who
driven by evil tongues
From all his fellows, lived alone, and came
To learn black magic, and to hate his kind
With such a hate, that when he died, his soul
Became a Fiend, which, as the man in life
Was wounded by blind tongues he saw not whence,
Strikes from behind. This
woodman showed the cave
From which he sallies, and
wherein he dwelt.
We saw the hoof-print of a horse, no more.'
Then Arthur, 'Let who goes before me, see
He do not fall behind me: foully slain
And villainously! who will hunt for me
This demon of the woods?' Said Balan, 'I'!
So claimed the quest and rode away, but first,
Embracing Balin, 'Good my brother, hear!
Let not thy moods
prevail, when I am gone
Who used to lay them! hold them outer fiends,
Who leap at thee to tear thee; shake them aside,
Dreams ruling when wit sleeps! yea, but to dream
That any of these would wrong thee, wrongs thyself.
Witness their
flowerywelcome. Bound are they
To speak no evil. Truly save for fears,
My fears for thee, so rich a fellowship
Would make me
wholly blest: thou one of them,
Be one indeed: consider them, and all
Their
bearing in their common bond of love,
No more of
hatred than in Heaven itself,
No more of
jealousy than in Paradise.'
So Balan warned, and went; Balin remained:
Who--for but three brief moons had glanced away
From being
knighted till he smote the
thrall,
And faded from the presence into years
Of exile--now would strictlier set himself
To learn what Arthur meant by courtesy,
Manhood, and
knighthood;
wherefore hovered round
Lancelot, but when he marked his high sweet smile
In passing, and a transitory word
Make
knight or churl or child or
damsel seem
From being smiled at happier in themselves--
Sighed, as a boy lame-born beneath a height,
That glooms his
valley, sighs to see the peak
Sun-flushed, or touch at night the northern star;
For one from out his village
lately climed
And brought report of azure lands and fair,
Far seen to left and right; and he himself
Hath hardly scaled with help a hundred feet
Up from the base: so Balin marvelling oft
How far beyond him Lancelot seemed to move,