LIII
The old lord call’d up his merry men,
And all that he gave cloth and fee,
With seven lords to ride beside him,
And into the land of France rides he.
LIV
The wind was good, and they did sail
Five hundred men into France land,
Till they were ’ware of the Heir of Lorn,
Stood with a porter’s staff in ’s hand.
LV
The lords then cast their hats into air,
The serving-men fell on their knee.
‘What fools be yonder,’ said the steward,
‘That makes the porter courtesye?’
LVI
‘Thou’rt a false thief,’ said the Lord of Lorn,
‘[This child, thy master] to betray!’
And they set the castle round about,
A swallow could not have flown away.
LVII
And when they had taken the false steward,
By the law of France all hastilye
A quest of lords there chosen was
That judged this traitor he must dee.