He went, and he came, and sustained his great name, For when was a Fowle e’er behindhand? And returned to receive the sweet laurels of fame From his Ida’s most willing and kind hand. XIII. When a man’s seeking _laurels_, to keep him at _bay_ Is a deed most exceedingly cruel, So we’ll hasten our baron along on his way To the casket which held his bright jewel. XIV. Lofty and high were the Montmolon towers, And fortified, too, beyond measure, Lest any bold lord of the neighbouring powers Should harry the Montmolon treasure. XV. Sir {232}Roderick gazed on the gloomy old wall, Which the ivy was slowly corroding, When a sight met his eyes which his heart did appal, And fill with a fearful foreboding. XVI. Where the Montmolon banner of old used to wave, And merrily flaunt in the breezes, No banner hung now--all was still as the grave, Or the form that death’s quietude seizes. XVII. The place looked so bleak--‘tis a sad thing to speak, But sad things sometimes must be spoken; And the winds they did shriek through that castle antique, For there wasn’t a window unbroken! XVIII. The mark of a foe did Sir Roderick know Full well--far too well to mistake it; And he groaned deep and low, in sad accents of woe, Ere he turned round his horse to forsake it. XIX. But he stopped; for a groan quite as sad as his own Seemed to come from the shrubberies near him, And an old man he spied, sitting there all alone, Who appeared in no manner to fear him. XX. He approached, and affright half gave way to delight At the chance his lost bride to regain her, When he recognised quite, in this dolorous wight, A Montmolon former retainer. XXI. “Old {233}man!” he cried out, “what’s this fuss all about? And has there been any disaster? You seemed crippled, no doubt: is’t rheumatics or gout? And where are your mistress and master?” XXII. With a guttural sigh, like one going to die, The man raised him up on his knees, and Thus made him reply, though the news, by-the-bye, He scarce could get out of his weasand. XXIII. “I’ve a sad tale to crack. Noble sir, you’ve come back To a house sacked from basement to attics; Too long do I lack kitchen chimney and jack For gout--let alone the rheumatics! XXIV. “I speak but with pain, for I’m slaughtered and slain (Just look at my garments all gory), But my breath I would fain a while longer retain Till I’ve told you our terrible story. XXV.