And shrilled to the warder a careless call:
‘Ho!—let portcullis and drawbridge fall;
We would see this bold knight of a braggart tune.’
And oh! but the wind had changed, I trow,
(Falchion, and gauntlet, and good crossbow),
When, an eve from thence, in a fading light,
On the bastion-keep stood a maid and knight,
And, while to his heart he clasped her tight,
‘Thou hast conquered, Sir Lionne!’ she murmured low.
‘I had vowed that no knight beneath the sun,