And called me queen, and made me stoop
Under the canopy--a streak
That pierced it, of the outside sun,
Powdered with gold its gloom's soft dun--

VII

And they could let me take my state
And foolish throne amid applause
Of all come there to celebrate
My queen's-day--Oh I think the cause 40
Of much was, they forgot no crowd
Makes up for parents in their shroud!

VIII

However that be, all eyes were bent
Upon me, when my cousins cast
Theirs down; 'twas time I should present
The victor's crown, but . . . there, 'twill last
No long time . . . the old mist again
Blinds me as then it did. How vain!

IX

See! Gismond's at the gate, in talk
With his two boys: I can proceed. 50
Well, at that moment, who should stalk
Forth boldly--to my face, indeed--
But Gauthier, and he thundered "Stay!"