never grieve,
    But, with a god-like strength, believe
    In the oft absent power of truth,
    As they have seen it in their youth. 
    Ye who have grown in such a mould
    Are worthy of the heart of gold!’

    “Ceasing, and in the act to rise,
    A voice exclaim’d, ’Receive the prize! 
    Earl William, let me pardon crave,
    Thus yielding what thy kindness gave! 
    But with such strange, intense delight,
    This maiden fills my ear, my sight;
    I long so ardently to twine
    In her renown one gift of mine;
    That having but a die to cast,
    Lest our first meeting prove our last,
    I would ensure myself the lot
    Not to be utterly forgot! 
    And this, my offering, here consign,
    Worthy, because it once was thine! 
    Then, maiden, from a warrior deign
    To take this golden heart and chain! 
    Thy order’s emblem! and afar
    Its light shall lead me, like a star! 
    If thou, its mistress, didst requite
    With guerdon meet each chosen knight;
    If from that gifted hand there came
    A badge of such excelling fame,
    The broider’d scarf might wave in vain,
    Unenvied might a rival gain,
    Amid assembled peers, the crown
    Of tournay triumph and renown;
    For me its charm would all be gone,
    E’en though a princess set it on!’

      “I bow’d my thanks, and quick withdrew,
    Glad to escape from public view;
    Laden with presents, and with praise,
    Beyond the meed of former days. 
    But that on which I gaz’d with pride,
    Which I could scarcely lay aside,
    Even to close my eyes for rest;
    (I wear it now upon my breast,
    And there till death it shall remain!)
    Was this same golden heart and chain! 
    The peacock crown, with all its eyes,
    Its emerald, jacinth, sapphire dyes,
    When first, irradiate o’er my brow,
    Wav’d its rich plumes in gleaming flow,
    Did not so deep a thrill impart,
    So soften, so dilate my heart! 
    No praise had touch’d me, as it fell,
    Like his, because I saw full well,
    Honour and sweetness orb’d did lie
    Within the circlet of his eye! 
    Integrity which could not swerve,
    A judgment of that purer nerve,
    Fearing itself, and only bound
    By truth and love to all around: 
    Which dared not feign, and scorn’d to vaunt,
    Nor interest led, nor power could daunt;
    Acting as if it mov’d alone
    In sight of the Almighty’s throne.

      “His graceful form my Fancy caught,—­
    It was the same she always brought,
    When legends mentioned knights of old,
    The courteous, eloquent, and bold. 
    The same dark locks his forehead grac’d,
    A crown by partial Nature plac’d,
    With the large hollows, and the swells,
    And short, close, tendril