E’en as he spake, already far,
Far from his home was he.
Part VI.
THE HERMIT.
I.
In his cell at midnight sleeping,
Lay the hermit of Helléan;
When upon his door three blows fell,
With a little pause between.
“Open to me, holy hermit,
Open unto me thy door;
Here a place of refuge seeking,
Let me lie upon thy floor.
“Icy cold the wind is blowing
From the bitter Frankish land;
From the sea it blows, ice-laden:
Bid me not without to stand.