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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,


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