eady still to soil,
All that is bright and fair,
With more than Time's destructiveness,
Who never learned to spare.

The morn was bright, but posts had come,
Bringing no tidings fair,
For knit was Edward's royal brow,
And full of thoughtful care.

The lists were set, the parted sun
Shone equal on the plain,
And many a knight there manfully
Strove fresh applause to gain.

Sir Henry Talbot, and Sir Guy
Of Brackenbury, he
Who slew the giant Iron-arm,
On Cressy's famous lea,

Were counted best, and claimed the Prince
To give the sign that they
Might run the tilt, and one receive
The honors of the day.

"Speed, knights, perhaps those arms that shine
In peace," prince Edward said,
"Before a se'nnight pass, may well,
In Gallic blood be died.

"For here we learn that hostile bands,
Have gathered in Touraine,
And Clifford, with his little troop,
Are prisoners or slain.

"For with five hundred spears, how bold
Soe'er his courage show,
He never could withstand the shock,
Of such a host of foe."

Fair Mary spoke not, but the blood
Fled truant from her cheek,
And left it pale, as when day leaves
Some mountain's snowy peak.

But then there camp the cry of horse,
The east lea pricking o'er,
And to the lists a weary page
A tattered pennon bore.

Fast came a knight with blood-stained arms,
And dusty panoply,
And beaver down, and armed lance,
In chivalric array.

No crest, no arms, no gay device,
Upon his shield he wore,
But a small knot beside his plume,
Of plain wild pinks he bore.

For love, for love and chivalry,
Lord Clifford rides the plain,
And foul he lies who dares to say,
His honor e'er know stain.

And Mary's cheek 'gan blushing bright,
And Mary's heart beat high,
And Mary's breath that fear oppressed
Came in a long glad sigh.

Straight to the Prince the knight he rode,
"I claim these lists," he cried,
"Though late into the field I come,
My suit be not denied;

"For we have fought beside the Loire,
And stained our arms in blood;
Not ever lost one step of ground,
So long as rebels stood.

"Hemmed in, I one time never thought
To die in British land,
Or see my noble prince again,
Or kiss his royal hand.

"But well fought every gallant squire,
And well fought every knight;
An