The people rose upon him on a night, For his default; and when he it espied, Out of his doors anon he hath him dight 4148 Alone, and where he ween’d t’ have been allied, 4149 He knocked fast, and aye the more he cried The faster shuttë they their doorës all; Then wist he well he had himself misgied, 4150 And went his way, no longer durst he call.

The people cried and rumbled up and down, That with his earës heard he how they said; “Where is this falsë tyrant, this Neroún?” For fear almost out of his wit he braid, 4151 And to his goddës piteously he pray’d For succour, but it mightë not betide; For dread of this he thoughtë that died, And ran into a garden him to hide.