CXCI

He saw the Saracen seize his sword；

His eyes he oped，

And he spake one word

“Thou art not one of our band，I trow”，

And he clutched the horn he would ne’er forego；

On the golden crest he smote him full，

Shattering steel and bone and skull，

Forth from his head his eyes he beat，

And cast him lifeless before his feet.

“Miscreant，makest thou then so free，

As，right or wrong，to lay hold on me？

Who hears it will deem thee a madman born；

Behold the mouth of mine ivory horn Broken for thee，

And the gems and gold Around its rim to earth are rolled”. fiTN1PZi3h3PA4IkkO9pSegpry+to/OXYwS31BZ6hVDH4hq2JQ9EIZAQXlmishoy