118
A Good Knight in Prison
The hairy-throated castellan ;
Then a grim fight with those that ran
To slay me, while I shouted, "God
For the Lady Mary!" deep I trod
That evening in my own red blood;
Nevertheless so stiff I stood,
That when the knights burst the old wood
Of the castle-doors, I was not dead.
I kiss the Lady Mary's head,
Her lips, and her hair golden red.
Because to-day we have been wed.
