But soon, with consciousness restored, his wound
He washed, and straightway hastened on his steed,
In time to tell the story, sad but true,
And stop the marriage of that coward with
The fairest and the noblest of the land.
As when upon a tree, whose boughs with fruits
Are laden, birds innumerable sit,
Them to enjoy and to be merry there,
The cruel hand of man to mar their joys
Hurls suddenly a stone, and all the air