Page:The tale of Balen (IA taleofbalen00swin).pdf/33

 Brief as the breaking of a wave That hurls on man his thunderous grave Ere fear find breath to cry or crave Life that no chance may spare or save, The light of joy and glory shone Even as in dreams where death seems dead Round Balen's hope-exalted head, Shone, passed, and lightened as it fled The shadow of doom thereon.

For as he bound him thence to fare, Before the stately presence there A lady like a windflower fair, Girt on with raiment strange and rare That rippled whispering round her, came. Her clear cold eyes, all glassy grey, Seemed lit not with the light of day But touched with gleams that waned away Of quelled and fading flame.