And a lion of gold on his casque was set.
He winded a bugle silver-clear,
(Mace, and arblast, and bandoleer),
Singing: ‘Yield up thy castle, fair May, to me:
Sir Lionne me hight, of a far countrie.
Now boune thee, Lady, my love to be,
Or I take thee by prowess of bow and spear!’
In the pale, pale light of a crescent moon,
(Spear, and corselet, and musketoon),
She saw him there by the castle wall,