“So,” thought Geraint, “I have track’d him to his earth.”
And down the long street riding wearily,
Found every hostel full, and everywhere 255
Was hammer laid to hoof, and the hot hiss
And bustling whistle of the youth who scour’d
His master’s armour; and of such a one
He ask’d, “What means the tumult in the town?”
Who told him, scouring still, “The sparrow-hawk!” 260
Then riding close behind an ancient churl,
Who, smitten by the dusty sloping beam,