Quick as it fell from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf
She leaned far out on the window sill
And shook it forth with a royal will.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame
Over the face of the leader came.
The nobler nature within him stirred to life
At that woman's deed and word
"Who touches a hair on yon grey head
Dies like a dog
March on" he said.

Yep - I had to recite.