And told his beads, and meekly pray’d,
Kneeling, at vesper hours.
“And the merry men of wild and glen,
In the green array they wore,
Have feasted here, with the red wine’s cheer,
And the hunter’s song of yore.
“And the minstrel, resting in my shade,
Hath made the forest ring
With the lordly tales of the high Crusade,
Once loved by chief and king.