3810And in some sort he was, for when the East
Was purpled with the blushes of the morn,
When his benumbèd senses were released
By the shrill sound of Gallus' bugle horn—
He heard a sound of words, and looking out,
He saw a legion of the monkish rout.
For you must know that, when Albino's wit
Had won him freedom, and Conrado thrall,
The jealous matron somewhat fearèd it,
And the next morning did 'Conrado' call,