Read it through once

Thy pardon for this long and tedious case, Which, now that I review it, needs must seem Unduly dwelt on, prolixly set forth! Nor I myself discern in what is writ Good cause for the peculiar interest And awe indeed this man has touched me with. Perhaps the journey’s end, the weariness Had wrought upon me first. I met him thus: {290} I crossed a ridge of short sharp broken hills Like an old lion’s cheek teeth. Out there came A moon made like a face with certain spots Multiform, manifold, and menacing: Then a wind rose behind me. So we met In this old sleepy town at unaware, The man and I. I send thee what is writ. Regard it as a chance, a matter risked To this ambiguous Syrian: he may lose, Or steal, or give it thee with equal good. {300} Jerusalem’s repose shall make amends For time this letter wastes, thy time and mine; Till when, once more thy pardon and farewell!