Now he has come, the wayward Gwendolaine
Is fain to punish him for his delay.
"Methinks," she says, in pique, against her will,
"The beautiful Ettonne looks for her knight;
It scarce seems chivalrous to leave her thus."

"'Tis true, my lady, I came not to stay,
But for a greeting, which I now have said."

He left her, the light shadow darker grew
Within her eyes, and golden hawking bells
Upon her jesses clashed with sudden clink,
As her fair hand had closed impatiently.

Betimes came Constantine, who looked a man
Of hard-won conquests, not the least, o'er self.
Before his stately presence Gwendolaine
Bowed low with heartfelt loyalty.

"My King,
Care rides beside you, banish him, to-day,
He will but spoil the sunshine and the hunt."

"Alas! he is the Sovereign of the King,
And stays, defying all command, fair Gwendolaine."
Then, smiling grimly,--"My great heritage,
As heir to fragments of the Table Round,
Brings me no wealth of ease."