XIV This glads me most, that I enjoyed By any doubt of the event: God took that on him-I was bid XV Did I not watch him while he let His armourer just brace his greaves, Rivet his hauberk, on the fret The while! His foot. . . my memory leaves No least stamp out, nor how anon He pulled his ringing gauntlets on. XVI And e'en before the trumpet's sound Was finished, prone lay the false knight, Prone as his lie, upon the ground: Gismond flew at him, used no sleight O' the sword, but open-breasted drove, Cleaving till out the truth he clove. XVII Which done, he dragged him to my feet "In full confession, lest thou fleet "From my first, to God's second death! Say, hast thou lied?" And, "I have lied "To God and her,” he said, and died. XVIII Then Gismond, kneeling to me, asked -What safe my heart holds, though no word Could I repeat now, if I tasked Dear even as you are. Pass the rest Until I sank upon his breast. XIX Over my head his arm he flung Against the world; and scarce I felt His sword (that dripped by me and swung) A little shifted in its belt : For he began to say the while How South our home lay many a mile. XX So, 'mid the shouting multitude We two walked forth to never more Return. My cousins have pursued Their life, untroubled as before I vexed them. Gauthier's dwelling-place XXI Our elder boy has got the clear Great brow; tho' when his brother's black Full eye shows scorn, it . . . Gismond here? ... And have you brought my tercel back? I was just telling Adela How many birds it struck since May. EURYDICE TO ORPHEUS. A PICTURE BY FREDERICK LEIGHTON, R.A. BUT give them me, the mouth, the eyes, the brow! Let them once more absorb me! One look now Will lap me round for ever, not to pass Out of its light, though darkness lie beyond: Hold me but safe again within the bond Of one immortal look! All woe that was, Forgotten, and all terror that may be, Defied, no past is mine, no future look at me! THE GLOVE. (PETER RONSARD loquitur.) "HEIGHO," yawned one day King Francis, “When a man 's busy, why, leisure Ne'er am at loss with my Naso, "Sire," I replied, "joys prove cloudlets: Here the King whistled aloud, “Let ’s 66 , . . Heigho . . . go look at our lions!" Such are the sorrowful chances If you talk fine to King Francis. And so, to the courtyard proceeding, And Sir de Lorge pressed 'mid the foremost Her, and the horrible pitside; For the penfold surrounded a hollow Which led where the eye scarce dared follow, And bade him make sport and at once stir Gave out to our gaze her abortion. Such a brute! Were I friend Clement Marot One's whole blood grew curdling and creepy To see the black mane, vast and heapy, No outlet, 'mid lightning and thunder, Ay, that was the open sky o'erhead! And you saw by the flash on his forehead, "How he stands !" quoth the King: แ we may well swear, ("No novice, we 've won our spurs elsewhere "And so can afford the confession,) "We exercise wholesome discretion "In keeping aloof from his threshold ; "Once hold you, those jaws want no fresh hold, "Their first would too pleasantly purloin "The visitor's brisket or sirloin : "But who 's he would prove so fool-hardy? "Not the best man of Marignan, pardie! The sentence no sooner was uttered, |