And up he sprung with sword in hand,—
“Thy name and purpose? Saxon, stand!”—
“A stranger.”—“What dost thou require?”—
“Rest and a guide, and food and fire.
My life’s beset, my path is lost,
The gale has chill’d my limbs with frost.”—
“Art thou a friend to Roderick?”—“No.”—
“Thou darest not call thyself a foe?”—
“I dare! to him and all the band
He brings to aid his murderous hand.”—