XXVI.

The quaighs were deep, the liquors strong, And on the tale the yeoman-throng Had made a comment sage and long, But Marmion gave a sign: And, with their lord, the squires retire; The rest around the hostel fire, Their drowsy limbs recline: For pillow, underneath each head, The quiver and the targe were laid. Deep slumbering on the hostel floor, Oppressed with toil and ale, they snore: The dying flame, in fitful change, Threw on the group its shadows strange.