POEM: THE VAULT — AFTER SEDGMOOR

You need not call at the Inn;

I have ordered my bed:

Fair linen sheets therein

And a tester of lead.

No musty fusty scents

Such as inn chambers keep,

But tapestried with content

And hung with sleep.

My Inn door bears no bar

Set up against fear.

The guests have journeyed far,

They are glad to be here.

Where the damp arch curves up grey,

Long, long shall we lie;

Good King's men all are they,

A King's man I.

Old Giles, in his stone asleep,

Fought at Poictiers.

Piers Ralph and Roger keep

The spoil of their fighting years.

I shall lie with my folk at last

In a quiet bed;

I shall dream of the sword held fast

In a round-capped head.

Good tale of men all told

My Inn affords;

And their hands peace shall hold

That once held swords.

And we who rode and ran

On many a loyal quest

Shall find the goal of man -

A bed, and rest.

We shall not stand to the toast

Of Love or King;

We be all too tired to boast

About anything.

We be dumb that did jest and sing;

We rest who laboured and warred...

Shout once, shout once for the King.

Shout once for the sword!