Still the old man stood mute. So, logwise, — down to floor / Pulled from his fireside place, dragged on from hearth to door, — / Was he pushed, a very log, staircase along, until / A certain turn in the steps was reached, a yard from the house-door-sill.
And he, the churl, / Shrank as the beetle shrinks beneath the pin / When village children stab him in their sport, / And, logwise, rolled before the charger's feet; And Stephen came to his own Court again.