Page:The tale of Balen (IA taleofbalen00swin).pdf/42

 'The sorceress, one with her in thought, Gave her that sword of magic, wrought By charms whereof sweet heaven sees nought, That hither girt on her she brought To be by doom her brother's bane. And grief it is to think how he That won it, being of heart so free And perfect found in chivalry, Shall by that sword lie slain.

'Great pity it is and strange despite That one whose eyes are stars to light Honour, and shine as heaven's own height, Should perish, being the goodliest knight That even the all-glorious north has borne. Nor shall my lord the king behold A lordlier friend of mightier mould Than Balen, though his tale be told Ere noon fulfil his morn.'