"
So turned they from the hot and dusty road
Where, 'mid green shade, a rill soft-bubbling flowed,
A brook that leapt and laughed in roguish wise,
Whereat Sir Pertinax with scowling eyes
Did frown upon the rippling water clear,
And sware sad oaths because it was not beer;
Sighful he knelt beside this murmurous rill,
Bent steel-clad head and bravely drank his fill.
Then sitting down, quoth he: "By Og and Gog,
I'll drink no more--nor horse am I nor dog
To gulp down water--pest, I hate the stuff!"
"Ah!" laughed the Duke, "'tis plain hast had enough,
And since well filled with water thou dost lie
To answer thee thy questions fain am I.
First then--thou art in lowly guise bedight,
For that thou art my trusty, most-loved knight,
Who at my side in many a bloody fray,
With thy good sword hath smit grim Death away--"
"Lord," quoth the Knight, "what's done is past return,
'Tis of our future doings I would learn."
"Aye," said the Duke, "list, Pertinax, and know
'Tis on a pilgrimage of love we go:
Mayhap hast heard the beauty and the fame
Of fair Yolande, that young and peerless dame
"For whom so many noble lovers sigh
And with each other in the lists do vie?
Though much I've dreamed of sweet Yolanda's charms
My days have passed in wars and feats of arms,
For, Pertinax, this blemished face I bear,
Should fright, methinks, a lady young and fair.
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