Whence reverence round grey-haired story grew:
And inmost spots of ancient horror shone
As temples under beams of trials bygone;
For in them sang brave times with God in view.
XIII
Till now trim homesteads bordered spaces green,
Like night’s first little stars through clearing showers.
Was rumoured how a castle’s falcon towers
The wilderness commanded with fierce mien.
XIV
Therein a serious Baron stuck his lance;
For minstrel songs a beauteous Dame would pout.
Gay knights and sombre, felon or devout,
Pricked onward, bound for their unsung romance.
XV
It might be that two errant lords across
The block of each came edged, and at sharp cry
They charged forthwith, the better man to try.
One rode his way, one couched on quiet moss.
XVI
Perchance a lady sweet, whose lord lay slain,
The robbers into gruesome durance drew.
Swift should her hero come, like lightning’s blue!
She prayed for him, as crackling drought for rain.