Page:The tale of Balen (IA taleofbalen00swin).pdf/54

 'From shore to mountain, dawn to night, The kinsfolk of this great dead knight Will chase thee to thy death.' A light Of swift blithe scorn flashed answer bright As fire from Balen's eye. 'For that, Small fear shall fret my heart,' quoth he: 'But that my lord the king should be For this dead man's sake wroth with me, Weep might it well thereat.'

Then murmuring passed the dwarf away, And toward the knights in fair array Came riding eastward up the way From where the flower-soft lowlands lay A king whose name the sweet south-west Held high in honour, and the land That bowed beneath his gentle hand Wore on its wild bright northern strand Tintagel for a crest.