Not hated foe.

"So when Death come, as come he must,
Grieve not that we this sorry dust
Do leave behind.
For when this fleeting life be run,


By Death we all of us--each one,
True life shall find."

Now while he sang melodious and clear
Amid the throng that closer pressed to hear,
Duke Joc'lyn of a sudden did espy
The "wherefore" of his coming and the "why."
Yolande herself he, singing, did behold,
Her eyes, red lips, her hair of ruddy gold;
And all her warm and glowing loveliness
Did sudden thus his raptured vision bless;
While she, in gracious ease, her horse did sit
That pawed round hoof and champed upon his bit,
Arching proud neck as if indeed he were
Proud of the lovely burden he did bear.
As Joc'lyn gazed upon her thus, she seemed
A thousand times more fair than he had dreamed.
Now while he sang, she viewed him, gentle-eyed,
And quite forgot the gallant by her side,
A tall, dark-featured, comely lord was he,
With chin full square and eyes of mastery,
Who, when the Duke made of his song an end