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.