Page:The Keepsake for 1838.djvu/77
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45
AZEL
Gentle stranger, prithee say,
Why is all this proud array
Of pennon, tent, and listed course,
Of armed knight and neighing horse,
Of painted shield and burnished spear—
Wherefore hold they tourney here?
Why is all this proud array
Of pennon, tent, and listed course,
Of armed knight and neighing horse,
Of painted shield and burnished spear—
Wherefore hold they tourney here?
The joust is for the brightest prize
That ever dazzled gallant eyes:
'Tis Reginald, of Ardavance,
That offers to the strongest lance
His only child—fair Blanche's hand,
With many a goodly rood of land.
And many a knight of gallant name
Is here, to win, or love, or fame.
That ever dazzled gallant eyes:
'Tis Reginald, of Ardavance,
That offers to the strongest lance
His only child—fair Blanche's hand,
With many a goodly rood of land.
And many a knight of gallant name
Is here, to win, or love, or fame.
Is you the maid?—she's wondrous pale!
A form so delicate and frail
Would more befit a peaceful bower,
With poet's song and moonlight hour,
Than thus to sit, 'mid vulgar eyes,
Some grisly warrior's battle prize.
While others scatter smiles around,
Her vacant eye ne'er quits the ground,
Save when by fits it sometimes raises
A glance—that marks not where it gazes.
So cold, abstracted, sad, and wan
A maid, I never looked upon.
A form so delicate and frail
Would more befit a peaceful bower,
With poet's song and moonlight hour,
Than thus to sit, 'mid vulgar eyes,
Some grisly warrior's battle prize.
While others scatter smiles around,
Her vacant eye ne'er quits the ground,
Save when by fits it sometimes raises
A glance—that marks not where it gazes.
So cold, abstracted, sad, and wan
A maid, I never looked upon.