Take courage to entrust your love To Him so Named, who guards above Breaking the narrow prayers that may THE ROMAUNT OF THE PAGE. I. A KNIGHT of gallant deeds And a young page at his side, As each were a palmer and told for beads II. 'O young page,' said the knight, 'A noble page art thou! Thou fearest not to steep in blood The curls upon thy brow; And once in the tent, and twice in the fight, Didst ward me a mortal blow.' III. ‘O brave knight,' said the page, 'Or ere we hither came, We talked in tent, we talked in field, But here, below this greenwood bough, IV. 'Our troop is far behind, The woodland calm is new; Our steeds, with slow grass-muffled hoofs, V. "The woodland calm is pure— I cannot choose but have A thought from these, o' the beechen-trees Which in our England wave, And of the little finches fine Which sang there while in Palestine VI. 'Methinks, a moment gone, I heard, sir knight, the prayer for me And I know the heavens are leaning down VII. The page spake calm and high, Perhaps he felt in nature's broad Full heart, his own was free. And the knight looked up to his lifted eye, Then answered smilingly : VIII. 'Sir page, I pray your grace! To cross your pastoral mood, sir page, I If the grasses die or grow. IX. 'And this I meant to say,- As ladies' faces use, to greet Or, speak she fair or prank she gay, X. 'And this I meant to fear, Her bower may suit thee ill! And fitter thy hand for my knightly spear, XI. Slowly and thankfully The young page bowed his head: His large eyes seemed to muse a smile, Until he blushed instead, And no lady in her bower pardiè Could blush more sudden red. 'Sir Knight,―thy lady's bower to me Is suited well,' he said. VOL. I.-18 XII. Beati, beati, mortui! From the convent on the sea, The great altar of St. Mary, And the fifty tapers burning o'er it, Now the vision in the sound Or ere the page's blush is past! And the knight heard all, and the page heard none. XIII. 'A boon, thou noble knight. If ever I served thee! Though thou art a knight and I am a page, Now grant a boon to me; And tell me sooth, if dark or bright, If little loved or loved aright Be the face of thy ladye.' XIV. Gloomily looked the knight; 'As a son thou hast servèd me, And would to none I had granted boon Except to only thee! For haply then I should love aright, XV. 'Yet ill it suits my knightly tongue The hand that claimed it, cleared in fine XVI. 'Earl Walter was a brave old earl,— And while I rode the lists at court XVII. 'Oh, calm, below the marble grey |