She lifted; and spake once again to him:
“When I came out of Spain to Sigebert
The rude Franks wondered at my company,
My Moorish falconers and deep-voiced hounds,
My swift light-horsemen, harpers, lutanists;
And prophesied my days would fly, like gold
Out of the loose hands of a prodigal,
With the delight of hunting and the glad
Singing of minstrels in the crowded hall,
Where the red torches mirror on the shields