The drowsy squire the stranger led; (The wardour to his post was sped.) They traversed the hall in silent march: At the end was a door in a mitred arch. The knight stood before that mitred door, And gazed on a warrior shape above, That seem’d to watch the passage o’er. In his altered look strange passions strove! The armoured shape leaned on its sword, And downward bent its steely face, As jealous who below might pace, Or about to speak the challenge-word; And it seemed the very form of one, The knight perforce must look upon. XIII. Thus, while he stood in wonder-trance, The squire upheld the torch on high, Viewing the guest with watchful eye; And marvelling what strange mischance So check’d his step, and fix’d his glance:— “Sir knight, why gaze you on that steel? It is a baron’s good and bold; Had he been here, no welcome cold Would he have shown a stranger-knight, Who trusted to his towers at night.” XIV. The spell of fant’sie loos’d awhile, The knight return’d a grateful smile, With thanks for this so courteous style; And, then with thoughtful accent said, While yet he stood, that shape before, “The armour some resemblance had To that of a dear friend no more! A friend!”—he paus’d,—“a friend long dead!” This, while he said, his colour fled. The squire seem’d not to note his pain, But, with fair speech, began again Excuse to make for slender fare, That it was night, and, not aware Of honour’d guest approaching there, The menials to their rest had gone; A chamber should be fitted soon. His squire and page should welcom’d be; Right well he longed that squire to see. XV.