Stung on to action; and he rose and said:
"That which thou askest is right hard, but, lo!
To rot here, harder. I will fight his foe.
But, mark, I have no weapons and no mail;
No steed against that other to avail."
She laughed again; "If we must beg or hire,
Fear not for that: these thou shalt lack not, sire."
And so she led the way; her torch's fire
Sprawling with spidery shadows at each stride
The cob-webbed coignes of scowling arches wide.