Quoth she, "Meekly have I done all thy biddings under sun": _Toll slowly._ "But by all my womanhood, which is proved so, true and good, I will never do this one. LXXVI. "Now by womanhood's degree and by wifehood's verity"-- _Toll slowly._ "In this hour if thou hast need of thy noble red-roan steed, Thou hast also need of _me_. LXXVII. "By this golden ring ye see on this lifted hand pardiè"-- _Toll slowly._ "If, this hour, on castle-wall can be room for steed from stall, Shall be also room for _me_. LXXVIII. "So the sweet saints with me be," (did she utter solemnly)-- _Toll slowly._ "If a man, this eventide, on this castle wall will ride, He shall ride the same with _me_." LXXIX. Oh, he sprang up in the selle and he laughed out bitter-well-- _Toll slowly._ "Wouldst thou ride among the leaves, as we used on other eves, To hear chime a vesper-bell?" LXXX. She clung closer to his knee--"Ay, beneath the cypress-tree!" _Toll slowly._ "Mock me not, for otherwhere than along the greenwood fair Have I ridden fast with thee. LXXXI. "Fast I rode with new-made vows from my angry kinsman's house": _Toll slowly._ "What, and would you men should reck that I dared more for love's sake As a bride than as a spouse? LXXXII. "What, and would you it should fall, as a proverb, before all"-- _Toll slowly._ "That a bride may keep your side while through castle-gate you ride, Yet eschew the castle-wall?" LXXXIII. Ho! the breach yawns into ruin and roars up against her suing-- _Toll slowly._ With the inarticulate din and the dreadful falling in-- Shrieks of doing and undoing! LXXXIV. Twice he wrung her hands in twain, but the small hands closed again. _Toll slowly._ Back he reined the steed--back, back! but she trailed along his track With a frantic clasp and strain. LXXXV. Evermore the foemen pour through the crash of window and door-- _Toll slowly._ And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of "kill!" and "flee!" Strike up clear amid the roar. LXXXVI. Thrice he wrung her hands in twain, but they closed and clung again-- _Toll slowly._ While she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood, In a spasm of deathly pain. LXXXVII.