Silent sat Wallenrod, upon his elbow
Leaning, and heard with scorn the unseemly noise.
The uproar ceased; scarcely low-spoken jests
Alternate here and there the cup’s light clash.
“Let us rejoice,” he says. “How now, my brethren!
Beseems it valiant knights to thus rejoice?
One time a drunken clamour, now low murmurs?
Must we then feast like bandits or like monks?
“There were far other customs in my time,
When on the battlefield with corpses piled,