It was a bleak dawn, full of a thick, low-lying mist beyond the walls, but within this mist, to north and south and east and west, was a faint stir, while, ever and anon, rose the distant cry of some sentinel within Duke Ivo's sleeping camp, a mighty camp whose unseen powers held the fair city in deadly grip. In Belsaye nothing stirred and none waked at this dead hour save where, high on the bartizan above the square and mighty keep, the watchman paced to and fro, while here and there from curtain wall and massy tower, spear-head and bascinet gleamed.
Slow and light of foot Beltane climbed the narrow stair that led up to one of the two square towers that flanked the main gate, but, being come thither, he paused to behold Giles, who chancing to be captain of the watch, sat upon a pile of great stones beside a powerful mangonel or catapult and stared him dolefully upon the lightening east: full oft sighed he, and therewith shook despondent head and even thus fell he to soft and doleful singing, groaning to himself 'twixt each verse, on this wise:
"She will not heed her lover's moan,
His mopèd tear, his deep-fetched groan,
So doth he sit, and here alone
Sing willow!
("With three curses on this foul mist!)
"The little fishes fishes woo,
Birds blithe on bough do bill and coo,
But lonely I, with sad ado
Sing willow!"
("And may Saint Anthony's fire consume Bernard, the merchant's round, plump son!)
"'Tis sure a maid was made for man,
'Twas e'en so since the world began,
Yet doleful here, I only can
Sing willow!"
("And may the blessed saints have an eye upon her tender slumbers!")
Here Giles paused to sigh amain, to fold his arms, to cross his legs, to frown and shake gloomy head; having done the which, he took breath and sang again as followeth:—
"Alack-a-day, alas and woe!
Would that Genevra fair might know
'Tis for her love Giles of the Bow
Sings willow!"