For all his heart within him yearned
With pity like as fire that burned.
The fate his fateful eye discerned
Far off now dimmed it, ere he turned
⁠His face toward Camelot, to tell
Arthur of all the storms that woke
Round Balen, and the dolorous stroke,
And how that last blind battle broke
⁠The consummated spell.

'Alas,' King Arthur said, 'this day
I have heard the worst that woe might say:
For in this world that wanes away
I know not two such knights as they.'
⁠This is the tale that memory writes
Of men whose names like stars shall stand,
Balen and Balan, sure of hand,
Two brethren of Northumberland,
⁠In life and death good knights.