The soldiers of the castle, bound their arms,
And drove them, harshly, o’er the plain, on foot,
Weary and terror-stricken, through the gate,
Into the presence hall, where sate their chief.
Sternly he questioned Michael of his wealth,
And with what hope he, from a foreign land,
Was wandering, thus attended; who, in scorn,
Answered him nothing; till “Away with him!
Bind him there on the house-top, that the moon
Shed curses on his face, pale as her own,