XXXVII.
"It is three months gone to-day since I gave mine hand away":
Toll slowly.
"Bring the gold and bring the gem, we will keep bride-state in them,
While we keep the foe at bay.
XXXVIII.
"On your arms I loose mine hair; comb it smooth and crown it fair":
Toll slowly.
"I would look in purple pall from this lattice down the wall,
And throw scorn to one that's there!"
XXXIX.
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west—
Toll slowly.
On the tower the castle's lord leant in silence on his sword,
With an anguish in his breast.
XL.
With a spirit-laden weight did he lean down passionate:
Toll slowly.
They have almost sapped the wall,—they will enter therewithal
With no knocking at the gate.
XLI.
Then the sword he leant upon, shivered, snapped upon the stone—
Toll slowly.
"Sword," he thought, with inward laugh, "ill thou servest for a staff
When thy nobler use is done!