... The foe, for dread Of your nine-worthiness, is fled; All, save Crowdero, for whose sake You did th' espous'd cause undertake; And he lies pris'ner at your feet, To be disposed as you think meet, Either for life, or death, or sale, The gallows, or perpetual jail; For one wink of your powerful eye Must sentence him to live or die; His Fiddle is your proper purchase, Won in the service of the Churches; And by your doom must be allow'd To be or be no more, a _Crowd_.' . . . . . ... The Knight began to rouse, And by degrees grew valorous; He stared about, and seeing none Of all his foes remain, but one, He snatch'd his weapon that lay near him, And from the ground began to rear him, Vowing to make Crowdero pay For all the rest that ran away. But Ralpho now, in colder blood, His fury mildly thus withstood. 'Great sir,' quoth he, 'your mighty spirit Is raised too high; this slave doth merit To be the hangman's business sooner Than from your hand to have the honour Of his destruction; I, that am A nothingness in deed and name, Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase, Or ill entreat his Fiddle or case; . . . . . Will you employ your conq'ring sword To break a Fiddle, and your word? . . . . . ... I think it better far To keep him prisoner of war.' . . . . . He liked the squire's advice, and soon Resolved to see the business done. . . . . . Ralpho dispatched with speedy haste, And having ty'd Crowdero fast, He gave Sir Knight the end of cord, To lead the captive of his sword. . . . . . The Squire in state rode on before, And on his nut-brown whinyard bore The Trophy-Fiddle, and the case Leaning on shoulder, like a mace.[7] The Knight himself did after ride, Leading Crowdero by his side, And tow'd him if he lagg'd behind, Like boat against the tide and wind. Thus grave and solemn they march on, Until quite thro' the town th' had gone, At further end of which there stands An ancient castle, that commands[8] Th' adjacent parts; in all the fabric You shall not see one stone nor a brick But all of wood, by powerful spell Of magic made impregnable. . . . . . Thither arriv'd, th' advent'rous Knight And bold Squire from their steeds alight At th' outward wall, near which there stands A bastile, built t' imprison hands; . . . . .