The two knights had returned to their apartments in deep silence.

When they arrived there, Edwald caused himself to be disarmed, and laid every piece of his fair shining armour together with a kind of tender care, almost as if he were burying the corpse of a beloved friend.

Then he beckoned to his squires to leave the chamber, took his lute on his arm, and sang the following song to its notes:-- "Bury them, bury them out of sight, For hope and fame are fled; And peaceful resting and quiet night Are all now left for the dead." "You will stir up my anger against your lute," said Froda.

"You had accustomed it to more joyful songs than this.

It is too good for a passing-bell, and you too good to toll it.