Page:Early poems of William Morris.djvu/154

 Therefore we set our bastides round the tower

That Geffray held, the strong thief! like a king,

High perch'd upon the rock of Ventadour,

Hopelessly strong by Christ! it was mid spring.

When first I joined the little army there

With ten good spears; Auvergne is hot, each day

We sweated armed before the barrier,

Good feats of arms were done there often—eh?

Your brother was slain there? I mind me now

A right, good man-at-arms, God pardon him!

I think 'twas Geffray smote him on the brow

With some spiked axe, and while he totter'd, dim

About the eyes, the spear of Alleyne Roux

Slipped through his camaille and his throat; well, well!

Alleyne is paid now; your name Alleyne too?

Mary! how strange—but this tale I would tell—

For spite of all our bastides, damned blackhead

Would ride abroad whene'er he chose to ride,

We could not stop him; many a burgher bled

Dear gold all round his girdle; far and wide.

The villaynes dwelt in utter misery

'Twixt us and thief Sir Geffray; hauled this way

By Sir Bonne Lance at one time, he gone by,

Down comes this Teste Noire on another day.

And therefore they dig up the stone, grind corn.

Hew wood, draw water, yea, they lived, in short,

As I said just now, utterly forlorn,

Till this our knave and blackhead was out-fought.