2140'Not time it was, but an unhappy hour'
The porter said 'we had a virtuous fair,
Daughter unto a man of mighty power,
So like yourself I think you sisters are,'
(How largely flatt'ry has dispersed its song
That it does oil and smooth a porter's tongue!)
'Bellama hight by her uncourteous sire,
Fetched hence, who, when my lady did deny,
Begirt our holy walls with sulphur-fire,
And summoned harnessed men which close did lie.