Drooped like a musk-rose trained beside a tomb.
Loath was the guest that night to seek his room.
Ah! wherefore tell again an oft-told tale,—
That of the sleeping knight who lost his wage
In the enchanted land, though cased with mail,
And bore the sacred shrine an empty gage?
How this thing went it were not worth to view
But for the triple coil which thence outgrew;
How, with the morn, the ancient chamberlain
Made off, and on the marriage business moved;