That fills my heart like a feasting where mailed kings break bread,
You are kind as a poor man’s alms, Lord, if I take this to the dead!
Slowly the lights, the noise return, but they touch not me.
I, who knew not my chains at all, stand here free!
Sound the assay, white bugles! Shields, clash loud!
Fate and one face I follow, through a gate grown proud!
THREE DAYS’ RIDE
“From Belton castle to Solway side,
Hard by the bridge, is three days’ ride.”
We had fled full fast from her father’s keep,