So unperceived a bone he brake,
And suck’d the marrow greedily.
The morning dawn’d: with choral strain
The feather’d songsters fill the skies:
The sun ascends: the travellers twain
From slumbers light refresh’d arise.
To war and bold adventure prone,
Each buckles on his armour strait,
And whets his weapon on the stone,
That stands without the cottage gate.