THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS
King Francis was a hearty king, and loved
a royal sport,
And one day, as his lions strove, sat
looking on the court;
The nobles filled the benches round, the
ladies by their side,
And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one
he hoped to make his bride;
And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that
crowning show,
Valour and love, and a king above, and the
royal beasts below.
Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid
laughing jaws;
They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams,
a wind went with their paws.
With wallowing might and stifled roar, they
rolled one on another,
Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in
a thunderous smother;
The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing
through the air;
Said Francis, then, "Good gentlemen, we're
better here than there!"
De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a
beauteous, lively dame,
With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes,
which always seemed the same:
She thought, "The Count, my lover, is as
brave as brave can be;
He surely would do desperate things to show
his love of me!
King, ladies, lover, all look on; the chance
is wond'rous fine;
I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great
glory will be mine!"
She dropped her glove to prove his love: then
looked on him and smiled;
He bowed and in a moment leaped among the
lions wild:
The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon
regained his place;
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right
in the lady's face!
"In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and
he rose from where he sat:
"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a
task like that!"
Leigh Hunt