An arrow whizzed to the right,one to the left,One overhead;and Pellam's feeble cry 'Stay,stay him!he defileth heavenly things With earthly uses'--made him quickly dive Beneath the boughs,and race through many a mile Of dense and open,till his goodly horse,Arising wearily at a fallen oak,Stumbled headlong,and cast him face to ground.
Half-wroth he had not ended,but all glad,Knightlike,to find his charger yet unlamed,Sir Balin drew the shield from off his neck,Stared at the priceless cognizance,and thought 'I have shamed thee so that now thou shamest me,Thee will I bear no more,'high on a branch Hung it,and turned aside into the woods,And there in gloom cast himself all along,Moaning 'My violences,my violences!'
But now the wholesome music of the wood Was dumbed by one from out the hall of Mark,A damsel-errant,warbling,as she rode The woodland alleys,Vivien,with her Squire.
'The fire of Heaven has killed the barren cold,And kindled all the plain and all the wold.
The new leaf ever pushes off the old.
The fire of Heaven is not the flame of Hell.
'Old priest,who mumble worship in your quire--Old monk and nun,ye scorn the world's desire,Yet in your frosty cells ye feel the fire!
The fire of Heaven is not the flame of Hell.
'The fire of Heaven is on the dusty ways.
The wayside blossoms open to the blaze.
The whole wood-world is one full peal of praise.
The fire of Heaven is not the flame of Hell.
'The fire of Heaven is lord of all things good,And starve not thou this fire within thy blood,But follow Vivien through the fiery flood!
The fire of Heaven is not the flame of Hell!'
Then turning to her Squire 'This fire of Heaven,This old sun-worship,boy,will rise again,And beat the cross to earth,and break the King And all his Table.'
Then they reached a glade,Where under one long lane of cloudless air Before another wood,the royal crown Sparkled,and swaying upon a restless elm Drew the vague glance of Vivien,and her Squire;Amazed were these;'Lo there'she cried--'a crown--Borne by some high lord-prince of Arthur's hall,And there a horse!the rider?where is he?
See,yonder lies one dead within the wood.
Not dead;he stirs!--but sleeping.I will speak.
Hail,royal knight,we break on thy sweet rest,Not,doubtless,all unearned by noble deeds.
But bounden art thou,if from Arthur's hall,To help the weak.Behold,I fly from shame,A lustful King,who sought to win my love Through evil ways:the knight,with whom I rode,Hath suffered misadventure,and my squire Hath in him small defence;but thou,Sir Prince,Wilt surely guide me to the warrior King,Arthur the blameless,pure as any maid,To get me shelter for my maidenhood.
I charge thee by that crown upon thy shield,And by the great Queen's name,arise and hence.'
And Balin rose,'Thither no more!nor Prince Nor knight am I,but one that hath defamed The cognizance she gave me:here I dwell Savage among the savage woods,here die--Die:let the wolves'black maws ensepulchre Their brother beast,whose anger was his lord.
O me,that such a name as Guinevere's,Which our high Lancelot hath so lifted up,And been thereby uplifted,should through me,My violence,and my villainy,come to shame.'
Thereat she suddenly laughed and shrill,anon Sighed all as suddenly.Said Balin to her 'Is this thy courtesy--to mock me,ha?
Hence,for I will not with thee.'Again she sighed 'Pardon,sweet lord!we maidens often laugh When sick at heart,when rather we should weep.
I knew thee wronged.I brake upon thy rest,And now full loth am I to break thy dream,But thou art man,and canst abide a truth,Though bitter.Hither,boy--and mark me well.
Dost thou remember at Caerleon once--
A year ago--nay,then I love thee not--
Ay,thou rememberest well--one summer dawn--
By the great tower--Caerleon upon Usk--
Nay,truly we were hidden:this fair lord,The flower of all their vestal knighthood,knelt In amorous homage--knelt--what else?--O ay Knelt,and drew down from out his night-black hair And mumbled that white hand whose ringed caress Had wandered from her own King's golden head,And lost itself in darkness,till she cried--I thought the great tower would crash down on both--"Rise,my sweet King,and kiss me on the lips,Thou art my King."This lad,whose lightest word Is mere white truth in simple nakedness,Saw them embrace:he reddens,cannot speak,So bashful,he!but all the maiden Saints,The deathless mother-maidenhood of Heaven,Cry out upon her.Up then,ride with me!
Talk not of shame!thou canst not,an thou would'st,Do these more shame than these have done themselves.'
