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Of Crusaders in strife with Saracens,

Of victories, defeats and untold ills,

And this below the tow’r he now did sing.

And in the stillness of the summer night

His voice rose clear up to the battlement,

But none did deem it but a common lay,

Except the one who watched a flick’ring ray

Of one bright star, to him the song’s ascent

Came like God’s angels on the gleam of light.

He reached the middle of his song and ceased,

Then harkened for an answer from the tow’r,

When all at once he heard his master’s voice

Conclude the lay, it made his heart rejoice.

He homeward sped, and soon a ransom’s power

The monarch from captivity released.

This story Stella told the Florentine,

Who found it charming in her quaint Italian,

But would have substituted some fair lady

For doughty Richard, though perhaps more shady,

If held a ransom by a noble villain,

Found by her lover while she did repine.

A thing she disagreed with very strongly,

Since heroes she preferred to amorettes,

And poets, singing monarchs out of prison,