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POOT, saddle, to horse, and away!

Rescue my Castle, before the hot day Brightens to blue from its silvery gray, (Cho.) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!”

Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say ; Many 's the friend there will listen and pray "God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay,

(Cho.) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads'


Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my


(Cho.) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and


Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay! I've better counsellors; what counsel they? (Cho.) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"


HRIST God, who savest men, save


Of men Count Gismond who saved me! Count Gauthier, when he chose his post,

Chose time and place and company

To suit it; when he struck at length
My honor 't was with all his strength.

And doubtlessly ere he could draw

All points to one, he must have schemed.

That miserable morning saw

Few half so happy as I seemed, While being dressed in Queen's array To give our Tourney prize away.

I thought they loved me, did me grace
To please themselves; 't was all their deed:
God makes, or fair or foul, our face;

If showing mine so caused to bleed

My cousins' hearts, they should have dropped A word, and straight the play had stopped.

They, too, so beauteous! Each a queen
By virtue of her brow and breast;
Not needing to be crowned, I mean,

As I do. E'en when I was dressed,
Had either of them spoke, instead
Of glancing sideways with still head!

But no: they let me laugh, and sing

My birthday song quite through, adjust

The last rose in my garland, fling

A last look on the mirror, trust My arms to each an arm of theirs, And so descend the castle-stairs,

And come out on the morning troop
Of merry friends who kissed my cheek,
And called me Queen, and made me stoop

Under the canopy,

(a streak

That pierced it, of the outside sun,

Powdered with gold its gloom's soft dun,)—

And they could let me take my state
And foolish throne amid applause
Of all come there to celebrate

My Queen's day, — O, I think the cause
Of much was, they forgot no crowd
Makes up for parents in their shroud!

Howe'er that be, all eyes were bent
Upon me, when my cousins cast

Theirs down; 't was time I should present
The victor's crown, but . . . there, 't will last
No long time. . . the old mist again
Blinds me as then it did. How vain!

See! Gismond's at the gate, in talk
With his two boys: I can proceed.
Well, at that moment, who should stalk
Forth boldly (to my face, indeed)

But Gauthier, and he thundered "Stay!"

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About her! Let her shun the chaste,

Or lay herself before their feet!

Shall she, whose body I embraced A night long, queen it in the day? For Honor's sake no crowns, I say!

I? What I answered? As I live
I never fancied such a thing

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