“And in its stead the waving plume
Shall crest my woman’s brow,
The armour gall my woman’s limbs;—
What! art thou recreant now?”
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“Oh! be not wroth, sweet ladye mine,
For by my sword I swear,
It needs not I should courage learn
From any ladye fair.”
“Now say’st thou well, and forth shalt thou
At once mine own true knight;
Myself will buckle on thy spurs
As thine own valour bright!”
Forth, forth he went, and round his arms
On that all-glorious day
His prowess wreathed a coronet
No Time shall pluck away.
And still his children’s children tell
Their valiant grandsire’s fame;
And still his children’s children bless
The Ladye Edith’s name,
Who, zealous for the “English Rose,”
Herself arrayed her lord,
And gave to Valour’s deeds of might
Young Beauty’s best reward.
