Than, serving him, serve wrong, and save our breath,
And on our heads, perhaps, bring down God's curse."
"May God deliver you in mercy, sirs,
And help us all!" said Arthur. At which word
Straightway a groaning sound of iron was heard,
Of chains rushed loose and bolts jarred rusty back,
And hoarse the gate croaked open; and the black
Of that rank cell astonished was with light,
That danced fantastic with the frantic night.
One high torch, sidewise worried by the gust,