His wealth with all his speed;
Stout men-at-arms, and billmen true,
And bowmen armed with sturdy yew,
Attend him in his need.
Now he hath stored his fortelace well
With beeves and sheep and grain.
He standeth on his topmost tower;
And sayeth in the pride of power,
The king shall knock in vain!
What, O my knights! the monarch cries,