Down in a meadow green and still
He bade the folk that wrought his will
Pitch his pavilion, where the chill
Soft night would let not rest fulfil
⁠His heart wherein dark fears lay deep.
And sharp against his hearing cast
Came a sound as of horsehoofs fast
Passing, that ere their sound were past
⁠Aroused him as from sleep.

And forth he looked along the grass
And saw before his portal pass
A knight that wailed aloud, 'Alas
That life should find this dolorous pass
⁠And find no shield from doom and dole!'
And hearing all his moan, 'Abide,
Fair sir,' the king arose and cried,
'And say what sorrow bids you ride
⁠So sorrowful of soul.'