In winter, when the year burns low As fire wherein no firebrands glow, And winds dishevel as they blow The lovely stormy wings of snow, The hearts of northern men burn bright With joy that mocks the joy of spring To hear all heaven's keen clarions ring Music that bids the spirit sing And day give thanks for night.
Aloud and dark as hell or hate Round Balen's head the wind of fate Blew storm and cloud from death's wide gate:
But joy as grief in him was great To face God's doom and live or die, Sorrowing for ill wrought unaware, Rejoicing in desire to dare All ill that innocence might bear With changeless heart and eye.
Yet passing fain he was when past Those lands and woes at length and last.
Eight times, as thence he fared forth fast, Dawn rose and even was overcast With starry darkness dear as day, Before his venturous quest might meet Adventure, seeing within a sweet Green low-lying forest, hushed in heat, A tower that barred his way.
Strong summer, dumb with rapture, bound With golden calm the woodlands round Wherethrough the knight forth faring found A knight that on the greenwood ground Sat mourning: fair he was to see, And moulded as for love or fight A maiden's dreams might frame her knight;But sad in joy's far-flowering sight As grief's blind thrall might be.
"God save you," Balen softly said, "What grief bows down your heart and head Thus, as one sorrowing for his dead?
Tell me, if haply I may stead In aught your sorrow, that I may."
"Sir knight," that other said, "thy word Makes my grief heavier that I heard."
And pity and wonder inly stirred Drew Balen thence away.
And so withdrawn with silent speed He saw the sad knight's stately steed, A war-horse meet for warrior's need, That none who passed might choose but heed, So strong he stood, so great, so fair, With eyes afire for flight or fight, A joy to look on, mild in might, And swift and keen and kind as light, And all as clear of care.
And Balen, gazing on him, heard Again his master's woful word Sound sorrow through the calm unstirred By fluttering wind or flickering bird, Thus: "Ah, fair lady and faithless, why Break thy pledged faith to meet me? soon An hour beyond thy trothplight noon Shall strike my death-bell, and thy boon Is this, that here I die.
"My curse for all thy gifts may be Heavier than death or night on thee;For now this sword thou gavest me Shall set me from thy bondage free."
And there the man had died self-slain, But Balen leapt on him and caught The blind fierce hand that fain had wrought Self-murder, stung with fire of thought, As rage makes anguish fain.
Then, mad for thwarted grief, "Let go My hand," the fool of wrath and woe Cried, "or I slay thee." Scarce the glow In Balen's cheek and eye might show, As dawn shows day while seas lie chill, He heard, though pity took not heed, But smiled and spake, "That shall not need:
What man may do to bid you speed I, so God speed me, will."
And the other craved his name, beguiled By hope that made his madness mild.
Again Sir Balen spake and smiled:
"My name is Balen, called the Wild By knights whom kings and courts make tame Because I ride alone afar And follow but my soul for star."
"Ah, sir, I know the knight you are And all your fiery fame.
"The knight that bears two swords I know, Most praised of all men, friend and foe, For prowess of your hands, that show Dark war the way where balefires glow And kindle glory like the dawn's."
So spake the sorrowing knight, and stood As one whose heart fresh hope made good:
And forth they rode by wold and wood And down the glimmering lawns.
And Balen craved his name who rode Beside him, where the wild wood glowed With joy to feel how noontide flowed Through glade and glen and rough green road Till earth grew joyful as the sea.
"My name is Garnysshe of the Mount, A poor man's son of none account,"
He said, "where springs of loftier fount Laugh loud with pride to be.
"But strength in weakness lives and stands As rocks that rise through shifting sands;And for the prowess of my hands One made me knight and gave me lands, Duke Hermel, lord from far to near, Our prince; and she that loved me--she I love, and deemed she loved but me, His daughter, pledged her faith to be Ere now beside me here."
And Balen, brief of speech as light Whose word, beheld of depth and height, Strikes silence through the stars of night, Spake, and his face as dawn's grew bright, For hope to help a happier man, "How far then lies she hence?" "By this,"
Her lover sighed and said, "I wis, Not six fleet miles the passage is, And straight as thought could span."
So rode they swift and sure, and found A castle walled and dyked around:
And Balen, as a warrior bound On search where hope might fear to sound The darkness of the deeps of doubt, Made entrance through the guardless gate As life, while hope in life grows great, Makes way between the doors of fate That death may pass thereout.
Through many a glorious chamber, wrought For all delight that love's own thought Might dream or dwell in, Balen sought And found of all he looked for nought, For like a shining shell her bed Shone void and vacant of her: thence Through devious wonders bright and dense He passed and saw with shame-struck sense Where shame and faith lay dead.
Down in a sweet small garden, fair With flowerful joy in the ardent air, He saw, and raged with loathing, where She lay with love-dishevelled hair Beneath a broad bright laurel tree And clasped in amorous arms a knight, The unloveliest that his scornful sight Had dwelt on yet; a shame the bright Broad noon might shrink to see.
And thence in wrathful hope he turned, Hot as the heart within him burned, To meet the knight whose love, so spurned And spat on and made nought of, yearned And dreamed and hoped and lived in vain, And said, "I have found her sleeping fast,"
And led him where the shadows cast From leaves wherethrough light winds ran past Screened her from sun and rain.
But Garnysshe, seeing, reeled as he stood Like a tree, kingliest of the wood, Half hewn through: and the burning blood Through lips and nostrils burst aflood:
