“You shall not have ado to fight Here save against one only knight,” She said, and all her face grew bright As hell-fire, lit with hungry light That wicked laughter touched with flame. “Well, since I shall thereto,” said he, “I am ready at heart as death for me: Fain would I be where death should be And life should lose its name. “But travelling men whose goal afar Shines as a cloud-constraining star Are often weary, and wearier are Their steeds that feel each fret and jar Wherewith the wild ways wound them: yet, Albeit my horse be weary, still My heart is nowise weary; will Sustains it even till death fulfil My trust upon him set.” “Sir,” said a knight thereby that stood, “Meseems your shield is now not good But worn with warrior work, nor could Sustain in strife the strokes it would: A larger will I lend you.” “Ay, Thereof I thank you,” Balen said, Being single of heart as one that read No face aright whence faith had fled, Nor dreamed that faith could fly. And so he took that shield unknown And left for treason’s touch his own, And toward that island rode alone, Nor heard the blast against him blown Sound in the wind’s and water’s sound, But hearkening toward the stream’s edge heard Nought save the soft stream’s rippling word, Glad with the gladness of a bird, That sang to the air around. And there against the water-side He saw, fast moored to rock and ride, A fair great boat anear abide Like one that waits the turning tide, Wherein embarked his horse and he Passed over toward no kindly strand: And where they stood again on land There stood a maiden hard at hand Who seeing them wept to see. And “O knight Balen,” was her cry, “Why have ye left your own shield? why Come hither out of time to die? For had ye kept your shield, thereby Ye had yet been known, and died not here. Great pity it is of you this day As ever was of knight, or may Be ever, seeing in war’s bright way Praise knows not Balen’s peer.” And Balen said, “Thou hast heard my name Right: it repenteth me, though shame May tax me not with base men’s blame, That ever, hap what will, I came Within this country; yet, being come, For shame I may not turn again Now, that myself and nobler men May scorn me: now is more than then, And faith bids fear be dumb. “Be it life or death, my chance I take, Be it life’s to build or death’s to break: And fall what may, me lists not make Moan for sad life’s or death’s sad sake.” Then looked he on his armour, glad And high of heart, and found it strong: And all his soul became a song And soared in prayer that soared not long, For all the hope it had. Then saw he whence against him came A steed whose trappings shone like flame, And he that rode him showed the same 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.