That king had firmly hoped the cavalier

  Would from his royal seat the harpies scare.

  He now, that hope foregone, with nought to cheer,

  Laments, and sighs, and groans in his despair.

  Of his good horn remembers him the peer,

  Whose clangours helpful aye in peril are,

  And deems his bugle were the fittest mean

  To free the monarch from those birds unclean;