Sunned that lorn den of hunger, death and rust,
And one tall damsel vaguely vestured, fair
With shadowy hair, poised on the rocky stair.
And laughing on the King, "What cheer?" said she;
"God's life! the keep stinks vilely! and to see
So noble knights endungeoned hollowing here
Doth pain me sore with pity—but, what cheer?"
"Thou mockest us; for me the sorriest
Since I was suckled; and of any quest
To me the most imperiling and strange.—