XXXIV.

Anon in view a portal's blazon'd arch Arose; the trumpet bids the valves unfold; And forth an host of little warriors march, Grasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold. Their look was gentle, their demeanour bold, And green their helms, and green their silk attire; And here and there, right venerably old, The long-rob'd minstrels wake the warbling wire, And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire.