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When the half sigh her swelling breast
Against the silken ribband pressed;
When her blue eyes their secret told,
Though shaded by her locks of gold—
Where would you find the peerless fair
With Margaret of Branksome might compare!
Against the silken ribband pressed;
When her blue eyes their secret told,
Though shaded by her locks of gold—
Where would you find the peerless fair
With Margaret of Branksome might compare!
XXIX.
And now, fair dames, methinks I see
You listen to my minstrelsy;
Your waving locks ye backward throw,
And sidelong bend your necks of snow—
Ye ween to hear a melting tale
Of two true lovers in a dale;
And how the Knight, with tender fire,
To paint his faithful passion, strove;
Swore he might at her feet expire,
But never, never, cease to love;
And how she blushed, and how she sighed,
And, half consenting, half denied,
And now, fair dames, methinks I see
You listen to my minstrelsy;
Your waving locks ye backward throw,
And sidelong bend your necks of snow—
Ye ween to hear a melting tale
Of two true lovers in a dale;
And how the Knight, with tender fire,
To paint his faithful passion, strove;
Swore he might at her feet expire,
But never, never, cease to love;
And how she blushed, and how she sighed,
And, half consenting, half denied,
