The blossom of the sunny dew That now the stronger sun strikes through Fades off the blade whereon it blew No fleetlier than the flowers that grew On hope’s green stem in life’s fierce light. Nor might the glory soon to sit Awhile on Balen’s crest alit Outshine the shadow of doom on it Or stay death’s wings from flight. Dawn on a golden moorland side By holt and heath saw Balen ride And Launceor after, pricked with pride And stung with spurring envy: wide And far he had ridden athwart strange lands And sought amiss the man he found And cried on, till the stormy sound Rang as a rallying trumpet round That fires men’s hearts and hands. Abide he bade him: nor was need To bid when Balen wheeled his steed Fiercely, less fain by word than deed To bid his envier evil speed, And cried, “What wilt thou with me?” Loud Rang Launceor’s vehement answer: “Knight, To avenge on thee the dire despite Thou hast done us all in Arthur’s sight I stand toward Arthur vowed.” “Ay?” Balen said: “albeit I see I needs must deal in strife with thee, Light is the wyte thou layest on me; For her I slew and sinned not, she Was dire in all men’s eyes as death, Or none were lother found than I By me to bid a woman die: As lief were loyal men to lie, Or scorn what honour saith.” As the arched wave’s weight against the reef Hurls, and is hurled back like a leaf Storm-shrivelled, and its rage of grief Speaks all the loud broad sea in brief, And quells the hearkening hearts of men, Or as the crash of overfalls Down under blue smooth water brawls Like jarring steel on ruining walls, So rang their meeting then. As wave on wave shocks, and confounds The bounding bulk whereon it bounds And breaks and shattering seaward sounds As crying of the old sea’s wolves and hounds That moan and ravin and rage and wail, So steed on steed encountering sheer Shocked, and the strength of Launceor’s spear Shivered on Balen’s shield, and fear Bade hope within him quail. But Balen’s spear through Launceor’s shield Clove as a ploughshare cleaves the field And pierced the hauberk triple-steeled, That horse with horseman stricken reeled, And as a storm-breached rock falls, fell. And Balen turned his horse again And wist not yet his foe lay slain, And saw him dead that sought his bane And wrought and fared not well. Suddenly, while he gazed and stood, And mused in many-minded mood If life or death were evil or good, Forth of a covert of a wood That skirted half the moorland lea Fast rode a maiden flower-like white Full toward that fair wild place of fight, Anhungered of the woful sight God gave her there to see. And seeing the man there fallen and dead, She cried against the sun that shed Light on the living world, and said, “O Balen, slayer whose hand is red, Two bodies and one heart thou hast slain, Two hearts within one body: aye, Two souls thou hast lost; by thee they die, Cast out of sight of earth and sky And all that made them fain.”