And thousands of others as brave and bold;
And a blast of scorn to every knight
Who would dare to challenge his envied right.
The porte yields quick to the warder's hand
By the Yerl's consent, by the Yerl's command;
And the ladye, who knew the winding sound,
As the tra-la-la rang all around,
Has opened her casement up on high,
And thrown him the kiss of her courtesy.


II.

"I am come, fair ladye, to beg of thee,
As here I crave upon bended knee,
That thou wilt grant unto my prayer
A single lock of thy golden hair,
To wear in a lockheart over my breast,
And carry with me to the balmy East--
The land where the Saviour met his death,
The sacred Salem of saving faith,
Which holds the sepulchre of our Lord,
Defiled by a barbarous Paynim horde.
Grant me the meed for which I burn,
And, by our Ladye, on my return,
We will wedded be in the sacred bands
Of a sacrament sealed by holy hands."

The ladye has, with a gesture bland,
Taken her scissors into her hand,