If thou wert strong and thou wert sure,
A master now, and now a wooer,
Thy slave I'd be for ever."

Thus sang she sweet beside the lily-pool,
Unknowing any might her singing hear,
When rose another voice, so rich, so full
As thrilled her into rapt and pleasing wonder;
And as she hearkened to these deep-sung words,
She flushed anon and dimpled to a smile:

"What is love? 'Tis this, I say,
Flower that springeth in a day,
Bird of joy to sing alway,
Deep in the heart of me.

"What is love? A joyous pain
That I ne'er may lose again,
Since for ever I am fain
To think and dream of thee."

Now hasted she to part the leafy screen,
And one in motley habit thus beheld.
But when 'neath flaunting cock's-comb she did mark
His blemished face, she backward from him drew
And caught her breath, and yet upon him gazed
'Neath wrinkled brow, the while Duke Jocelyn
Read the expected horror in her eyes:
Wherefore he bowed his head upon his breast
And plucked at belt with sudden, nervous hand