To shield a widow's helpless age,
His avarice withstood.

With abject choler fierce and hot,
The knight perforce would gain,
And blend her little garden plot,
With his superb domain.

The priest, who, on that very ground,
To soothe his wrath would strive,
In frantic passion's fit he bound,
And buried him alive!

The wretch was seiz'd with shame and fear,
Tho' he his crime would boast:
When suddenly he chanc'd to hear,
His king lay off the coast!

'Twas gallant Harold, in that day,
Elate with regal power;
Becalm'd his stately vessel lay,
Near Geoffrin's high tower.

The royal mercy to surprize,
He now resolves with speed;
"Haste, hither bring," he wildly cries,
"My strongest favourite steed."

It was a steed of noblest kind,
In spirit and in limb,