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'I pray thee, wakeful Squire, unfold'—
Proud Rosabella said—
'The story of the warrior bold,
Who in this tomb is laid?'
'A champion of the Cross was he'—
The Squire made low reply—
'And on the shore of Galilee,
In battle did he die.
'He bound me by a solemn vow,
His body to convey
Where lived his love—there rests it now,
Until the judgment-day:
And by his stone of record here,
In loyalty I stand,
Until I greet his leman dear—
The Lady of the Land!'
'Fair stranger, I would learn of thee
The gentle warrior's name,
Who fighting fell at Galilee
And won a deathless name?'
The Squire hath fixed an eye of light
Full on the Lady tall—
'Men called,' he said, 'that hapless Knight
Sir Roland of the Hall!
