Who had pursued his people like a hawk?
Yet then his mind turned back to Andovere,
Whom convent walls enclosed, and Fredegonde
Seemed now so hateful in his sight, he found
Companionship with me in hating her.
He, with his friends, all day would hunt the boar,
And the wild aurochs, but at night would sit
Close to the blazing logs, and there I served
The warm, spiced ale to them, or ruddy wine
From Macon, till I moved them, every one,