"The royal will,--and what beside?
O! what I since have lost,--my pride,
Forbade the wonted song to fail:
I met him with a cheerful hail.
I taught my looks, my lips, to feign
I bade my hand its task sustain;
And when he came to seek the bride,
Her rival thus, unfaltering, cried:--

"'Approach! approach, thou gallant knight!
England's first champion in the fight,
Of grace and courtesy the flower,
Approach the high-born Osvalde's bower!
And forth let manly valour bring
Youth's timid meekness, beauty's spring!

"'Thou darling of a vassal host,
Thy parents' stay, thy kinsman's boast;
Thou favourite in a monarch's eyes,
Whose gracious hand awards the prize;
Thee does the brightest lot betide,
The best domain, the fairest bride!'

"Mine sunk beneath the mournful look
Which glanc'd disdainful as I spoke;
And, when his step past hurrying by,
And when I heard his struggling sigh,
A moment on my quailing tongue
The speech constrain'd of welcome hung;