XXXVIII.

With name unsaid and fame unsunned He walks that was King Sigismund. With palmers holy and pilgrims brown, New from the East, with friar and clown, He mingles in a wallèd town, And in the mart where men him scan He passes for a merchant man. For from his vest, where by good hap He thrust it, he his plumèd cap Hath drawn and plucked the gems away, And up and down he makes essay To sell them; they are all his wares And wealth. He is a man of cares, A man of toil; no roof hath he To shelter her full soon to be The mother of his dispossessed Desirèd heir.