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.