The Black Tower

SAY that the men of the old black tower,

Though they but feed as the goatherd feeds,

Their money spent, their wine gone sour,

Lack nothing that a soldier needs,

That all are oath-bound men:

Those banners come not in.

There in the tomb stand the dead upright,

But winds come up from the shore:

They shake when the winds roar,

Old bones upon the mountain shake.

Those banners come to bribe or threaten,

Or whisper that a man's a fool

Who, when his own right king's forgotten,

Cares what king sets up his rule.

If He died long ago

Why do you dread us so?