So it chanced that the queen one noontide in a restless slumber lay, 715 'Twas as if with a start she wakened and by lightning was borne away, And towards the clouds it bare her, and they smote her with mighty force, The fiery bolts of Heaven, as they sped on their downward course, And sparks sprang from her floating tresses mid the fire of the circling spheres, And the thunder crashed loud around her, and the rain-drops were burning tears. 720 For a little space was she conscious, then a grip on her right hand fell, And, lo! it was changed, the vision, and wondrous things befell; For then did she nurse a dragon, that forth from her body sprung, And its dragon life to nourish awhile at her breast it hung, Then it fled from her sight so swiftly she might look on it never more: 725 And her heart it brake for the anguish, and the terror and grief she bore. And never methinks a woman in slumber such woe hath seen, But now had she been so joyful, alas! all was changed I ween, And sorrow should be her portion, and her ill it waxed long and wide, And the shadow of coming sorrow did still on her heart abide. 730 Then she did what afore she could not, for the terror that on her lay, She stretched her limbs in her slumber, and moaned in her grief alway, And she cried aloud on her people; and many a maid sat by And they sprang to her side at her summons, and wakened her speedily. Then Tampaneis he came riding, of her husband's squires the chief, 735 And many a page was with him, and joy's goal was o'erpassed in grief, And they cried, 'He was dead, their master!' And her senses forsook the queen, And she fell aback in her anguish--And the knights spake, 'How hath this been? Hath our lord been slain in his harness, who ever was armed so well?' And tho' sorely the squire must sorrow, to the heroes the tale he'ld tell: 740 'No long life should he have, my master! His helm he put off awhile, The heat thereto constrained him--'twas accursed heathen guile That stole him from us, our hero--A knight took a he-goats blood, And from a long glass he poured it on the helmet of diamond good, And softer than sponge grew the diamond. May He Whom as Lamb they show 745 With the Cross in His hold, have mercy on the deeds that are wrought below!'