“O Balin, Balin, I that fain had died To save thy life, have brought thee to thy death. Why had ye not the shield I knew? and why Trampled ye thus on that which bare the Crown?” Then Balin told him brokenly, and in gasps, All that had chanced, and Balan moaned again. “Brother, I dwelt a day in Pellam’s hall: This Garlon mocked me, but I heeded not. And one said ‘Eat in peace! a liar is he, And hates thee for the tribute!’ this good knight Told me, that twice a wanton damsel came, And sought for Garlon at the castle-gates, Whom Pellam drove away with holy heat. I well believe this damsel, and the one Who stood beside thee even now, the same. ‘She dwells among the woods’ he said ‘and meets And dallies with him in the Mouth of Hell.’ Foul are their lives; foul are their lips; they lied. Pure as our own true Mother is our Queen.” “O brother” answered Balin “woe is me! My madness all thy life has been thy doom, Thy curse, and darkened all thy day; and now The night has come. I scarce can see thee now. Goodnight! for we shall never bid again Goodmorrow—Dark my doom was here, and dark It will be there. I see thee now no more. I would not mine again should darken thine, Goodnight, true brother. Balan answered low “Goodnight, true brother here! goodmorrow there! We two were born together, and we die Together by one doom:” and while he spoke Closed his death-drowsing eyes, and slept the sleep With Balin, either locked in either’s arm. Merlin and Vivien A storm was coming, but the winds were still, And in the wild woods of Broceliande, Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old It looked a tower of ivied masonwork, At Merlin’s feet the wily Vivien lay. For he that always bare in bitter grudge The slights of Arthur and his Table, Mark The Cornish King, had heard a wandering voice, A minstrel of Caerleon by strong storm Blown into shelter at Tintagil, say That out of naked knightlike purity Sir Lancelot worshipt no unmarried girl But the great Queen herself, fought in her name, Sware by her—vows like theirs, that high in heaven Love most, but neither marry, nor are given In marriage, angels of our Lord’s report. He ceased, and then—for Vivien sweetly said (She sat beside the banquet nearest Mark), “And is the fair example followed, Sir, In Arthur’s household?”—answered innocently: “Ay, by some few—ay, truly—youths that hold It more beseems the perfect virgin knight To worship woman as true wife beyond All hopes of gaining, than as maiden girl. They place their pride in Lancelot and the Queen. So passionate for an utter purity Beyond the limit of their bond, are these, For Arthur bound them not to singleness. Brave hearts and clean! and yet—God guide them—young.”