The warder's challenge, heard without, Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout.

A soldier to the portal went,--

'Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent;

And--beat for jubilee the drum!--

A maid and minstrel with him come.'

Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred, 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 roared:--' I only know, From noon till eve we fought with foe, As wild and as untamable As the rude mountains where they dwell;On both sides store of blood is lost, Nor much success can either boast.'--'But whence thy captives, friend? such spoil As theirs must needs reward thy toil.

Old cost thou wax, and wars grow sharp;

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp!

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, The leader of a juggler band.'