Yet from the crowd a mocking voice outbroke, That cried, "Be merry, masters, fear ye nought, Surely good succour to our side is brought; For here is Charlemaine come off his tomb To save his faithful city from its doom." "Yea," said another, "this is certain news, Surely ye know how all the carvers use To carve the dead man's image at the best, That guards the place where he may lie at rest; Wherefore this living image looks indeed, Spite of his ancient tongue and marvellous weed, To have but thirty summers." At the name Of Charlemaine, he turned to whence there came The mocking voice, and somewhat knit his brow, And seemed as he would speak, but scarce knew how; So with a half-sigh soon sank back again Into his dream, and shook his well-wrought rein, And silently went on upon his way. And this was Ogier: on what evil day Has he then stumbled, that he needs must come, Midst war and ravage, to the ancient home Of his desires? did he grow weary then, And wish to strive once more with foolish men For worthless things? or is fair Avallon Sunk in the sea, and all that glory gone? Nay, thus it happed--One day she came to him And said, "Ogier, thy name is waxen dim Upon the world that thou rememberest not; The heathen men are thick on many a spot Thine eyes have seen, and which I love therefore; And God will give His wonted help no more. Wilt thou, then, help? canst thou have any mind To give thy banner once more to the wind? Since greater glory thou shalt win for this Than erst thou gatheredst ere thou cam'st to bliss: For men are dwindled both in heart and frame, Nor holds the fair land any such a name As thine, when thou wert living midst thy peers: The world is worser for these hundred years." From his calm eyes there gleamed a little fire, And in his voice was something of desire, To see the land where he was used to be, As now he answered: "Nay, choose thou for me, Thou art the wisest; it is more than well Within this peaceful place with thee to dwell: Nor ill perchance in that old land to die, If, dying, I keep not the memory Of this fair life of ours." "Nay, nay," said she, "As to thy dying, that shall never be, Whiles that thou keep'st my ring--and now, behold, I take from thee thy charmed crown of gold, And thou wilt be the Ogier that thou wast Ere on the loadstone rock thy ship was cast: Yet thou shalt have thy youthful body still, And I will guard thy life from every ill."