The guard his message bore, where at their ease

  Reposed the weary cavaliers; his tale

  Not overlikely was those kings to please;

  For cold and peevish blew the wintry gale,

  And now fast fell the rain; yet, forced to seize

  Their arms, they slowly don the martial mail.

  The rest remain within; while they proceed

  Against the damsel, but with little speed.