Damsel John then spurs his horse
Through the golden summer gorse;
Leaves his father to remorse.
Never more they meet again
In this world of changeful pain,
Hapless love, and shadows vain.
Manhood’s joys nor regal pride
Knows he henceforth. At his side
Never stands a loving bride.
He hath laid his knighthood down,
Waives aside the coming crown.
Clad in ashen hood and gown,
In dim cell and cloister grey
Wears the rest of life away,
Breathing but to fast and pray.
And if tortured by a dream
Of sweet eyes that sadly gleam,
Tresses like a golden stream,—
Then to harder prayer he flies,
Hair-cloth, scourge, and bitter cries,
Self-inflicted agonies.
But, from men for ever gone,
None may find the nameless stone,
Where, at rest, sleeps Damsel John.
