Page:The tale of Balen (IA taleofbalen00swin).pdf/75

 But sheer ahead of the iron tide That rocked and roared from side to side Rode as the lightning's lord might ride King Lot, whose heart was set to abide All peril of the raging hour, And all his host of warriors born Where lands by warring seas are worn Was only by his hands upborne Who gave them pride and power.

But as the sea's hand smites the shore And shatters all the strengths that bore The ravage earth may bear no more, So smote the hand of Pellinore Charging, a knight of Arthur's chief, And clove his strong steed's neck in twain, And smote him sheer through brow and brain, Falling: and there King Lot lay slain, And knew not wrath or grief.