38
XIV
Nortuwarp the good knight gallops fast,
Resolved to seek his foe at home,
When rose that Vision of the past,
The royal battlements of Rome,
A ruined city, and a dome.
There in the broken Forum sat
A red-robed robber in a Hat.
“Whither away, Sir Knight, so fey?”
“Priest, for the dove on Ararat
T could not, nor I will not, stay!”
“T know thy quest. Seek on in vain
A golden hart with silver horns!
Life springeth out of divers pains.
What crown the King of Kings adorns?
A crown of gems? A crown of thorns!
The Questing Beast is like a king
In face, and hath a pigeon’s wing
And claw; its body is one fleece
Of bloody white, a lamb’s in spring.
Enough. Sir Knight, I give thee peace.”