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.'
