You came a flashing JOAN OF ARC,
Destructive of my bosom's peace.
The sword was girt upon your hip,
And thine the Maid's heroic glance;
I seemed to hear upon your lip,
The watchword of her life, "For France!"

Anon I saw thee as the Queen
Who held so many hearts in fee;
But MARY STUART scarce had been,
Methinks, so beautiful as thee.
I fain had gone and splintered lance,
As in the old days in our realm;
To win a kind approving glance,
And wear your glove upon my helm.

What, stately EDITH! Lives there yet
The lady of that royal line,
The peerless proud Plantagenet,
Will KENNETH's great emprise be mine?
We saw how high his hopes could soar;
We know the guerdon that he won.
Shall I find favour, as of yore
Did DAVID, Earl of Huntingdon?

'Tis certain, in whatever guise
You come, as heroine of song
Or story, to my faithful eyes
You shine the fairest of the throng.
However fanciful you be,