Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarr’d,
Was entering now the Court of Guard,
A harper with him, and in plaid
All muffled close, a mountain maid,
Who backward shrunk to ’scape the view
Of the loose scene and boisterous crew.
“What news?” they roar’d.—“I only know,
From noon till eve we fought with foe
As wild and as untamable
As the rude mountains where they dwell;