84
XXXII
“Hal” cries the knight, “ may patient toil
Of brain dissolve this cruel coil!
In Afric they that chase the ostrich
Clothe them with feathers, subtly foil
Its vigilance, come close, then dart
Its death upon it. Brave my heart!
Do thus!” And so the knight disguises
Himself, on hands and knees doth start
His hunt, goes questing up and down.
So in the fields the peasant clown
Flies, shrieking, from that dreadful figure.
But when he came to any town
They caged him for a lunatic.
Quod he: ‘‘ Would God I had the trick!
The beast escaped from my devices ;
I will the same. The bars are thick,
But I am strong.” He wrenched in vain;
Then—what is this? What wild, sharp strain
Smites on the air? The prison smashes.
Hark! ’tis the Questing Beast again !