Mournful, where they laughed so gladly,
A poor beggar, haggard, grey,
Trod with pain the stony roadside,
Often halting by the way.

He too reached the Castle's portal,
Stood within its archway grim,
Loitering in the path of others;
Who would step aside for him?

Pushed a henchman rudely, saying,
"Get you hence," but still he stood:
Then they gave him bread and water,
"Loiter not, you have your food."

Twice came others, in his wallet
Thrusting bread and meat, and said:
"Now away, why stand you troubling,
Here you cannot make your bed."

"Drink from her own hands imploring,
Tell your Lady here I wait!"
Wondering went she where the beggar
Shadowed stood within the gate.

Now she pours the crystal water,
Quickly he the cup returns;
Oh! what golden circlet broken
Sees she there that gleams and burns?