And _they_--consume provision.

To starve a garrison day by day
You may not think a chivalrous way
To take a fortification.
The story is dull: by way of relief,
I make a digression, very brief,
And leave the "ins" to swallow their beef,
The "outs" their mortification.

Many there were in Richard's train
More known to fame and of higher degree,
But none that suited his fickle vein
So well as Blondel and Marcadee.
Blondel had grown from a minstrel-boy
To a very romantic troubadour
Whose soul was music, whose song was joy,
Whose only motto was _Vive l'amour!_
In lady's bower, in lordly hall,
From the king himself to the poorest clown,
A joyous welcome he had from all,
And Care in his presence forgot to frown.
Sadly romantic, fantastic and vain,
His heart for his head still made amends;
For he never sang a malicious strain.
And never was known to fail his friends.
Who but he, when the captive king,
By a brother betrayed, was left to rot,
Would have gone disguised to seek and sing,
Till he heard his tale and the tidings brought?