“On good service we are going,
          Life to risk by sea and land,
        In which course if Christ our Saviour
          Do my sinful soul demand,
        Hither come thou back straightway,
        Hubert, if alive that day;
        Return, and sound the horn, that we
        May have a living house still left in thee!”

        “Fear not,” quickly answered Hubert: 
          “As I am thy father’s son,
        What thou askest, noble brother,
          With God’s favour, shall be done.” 
        So were both right well content: 
        Forth they from the castle went,
        And at the head of their array
        To Palestine the brothers took their way.

        Side by side they fought (the Lucies
          Were a line for valour famed),
        And where’er their strokes alighted,
          There the Saracens were tamed. 
        Whence, then, could it come—­the thought—­
        By what evil spirit brought? 
        Oh! can a brave man wish to take
        His brother’s life, for lands’ and castle’s sake?

        “Sir!” the ruffians said to Hubert,
          “Deep he lies in Jordan’s flood.” 
        Stricken by this ill assurance,
          Pale and trembling Hubert stood. 
        “Take your earnings.—­Oh! that I
        Could have seen my brother die!”
        It was a pang that vexed him then,
        And oft returned, again, and yet again.

        Months passed on, and no Sir Eustace! 
          Nor of him were tidings heard;
        Wherefore, bold as day, the murderer
          Back again to England steered. 
        To his castle Hubert sped;
        Nothing has he now to dread. 
        But silent and by stealth he came,
        And at an hour which nobody could name.

        None could tell if it were night-time,
          Night or day, at even or morn;
        No one’s eye had seen him enter,
          No one’s ear had heard the horn. 
        But bold Hubert lives in glee: 
        Months and years went smilingly;
        With plenty was his table spread,
        And bright the lady is who shares his bed.

        Likewise he had sons and daughters;
          And, as good men do, he sate
        At his board by these surrounded,
          Flourishing in fair estate. 
        And while thus in open day
        Once he sate, as old books say,
        A blast was uttered from the horn,
        Where by the castle-gate it hung forlorn,

        ’Tis the breath of good Sir Eustace! 
          He has come to claim his right: 
        Ancient castle, woods, and mountains
          Hear the challenge with delight. 
        Hubert! though the blast be blown,
        He is helpless and alone: 
        Thou hast a dungeon, speak the word! 
        And there he may be lodged, and thou be lord!