And tore in secret much their mental hair;

The ladies that they had no lovers there,

The gentle knight in amorous despair.

The lord who had denounc'd the light one's name, Seeing no step to vindicate her fame,

And hearing of her cousin's broken vow,

Would laugh, and lift his shoulders and his brow, And talk of tricks that run in families;

And then he'd lift his glass, and looking wise,

Drink to the health of "Truth betwixt Two

Lies."

Two fluster'd fools, though brave, and men of birth,
There were, who joined in this unseemly mirth;
Fellows who knew, and knew it to their shame,
The worth of one, and chaff of t'other dame.
These clubb'd their jealousies, revenge, and spite,
Till broad the scandal grew, and reached the knight.

Our lover heard with mingled rage and joy,

Then rose from out his grief, and called his boy,

(A pretty page with letter-bearing face,)
And wrote his mistress to implore her grace;
Her grace and pardon to implore, and some
Small favour for the battle, now to come,-
A glove, a string, aught but a cruel No,
To plume his next day's pounce upon the foe.
The page returns with doubt upon his eyes,
And brings a packet which his lord unties,
And speaks the while, "My lady saw me not,
But sends this answer to the note she got."
With trembling hands the string is cut, they lift
A lid of pasteboard, and behold-a shift!

CANTO II.

"Now whether shame she means me, or my

bliss,"

The knight he cries, "thank her for this, for this!" And as he spoke, he smother'd up a kiss :

"To-morrow sees me panoplied indeed,

And blessed be the thought shall clasp me while I bleed !"

Next day the lists are set, the trumpets blown, And grace requested for a knight unknown,

Who summons, and to mortal fight defies,

Three lordly knights for most unlordly calumnies. What calumnies they are, he need not tell;

Their names and consciences will serve as well.

The names are then resounded through the place, And tow'rds the entrance turns the universal face.

With scorn and rage the sturdy gallants hear, And ask what madman wants a sepulchre ;

But when the stranger, with his face unshewn,

Rides in, accoutred in a shift alone,

(For no defence his body had beside)

The doubtful laughter in amazement died.

'Twas clear the champion would be drenched with

wounds,

Yet see how calm he rides the accustomed rounds!

His mould is manly as the lawn is frail,

A shield is on his arm, his legs and thighs in mail ;

The herald's laws forbid a wounded steed ;

All strain their eyes, and on the shift they read,

Written in black, and answering to the part

The motto spoke of,

"It has touched her heart."

To admiration deep th' amazement turns,

The dumbness to discourse, which deeply burns;

I

Till the four parties to their posts fall in,
And soft eyes dazzle, ere the blows begin.

No stint or measure in his gallantry

The stranger knew; but took at once all three : The trumpets blew their blast of bloody weather, The swords are out, the warriors rush together, And with such bulk and tempest comes the knight, One of the three is overborne outright,

Saddle and man, and snaps his wrist. The wretch
Proclaims his rage and torture in a screech.

The three had thought to save the shift, and bring
The wearer down, for laughter to the king:
But seeing what they see, and both on fire

To reach him first, they turn and charge in ire,
And mix the fight; and such a storm succeeds

Of clatt'ring shields, and helms, and hurtling steeds,
With such a toil pell-mell, now that, now this,
Above, beneath, and rage of hit and miss,

And horses half on ground, or staring high,

And crouching skill, and trampling sovereignty,