“Who, being most brave, is purest!” Wedded wives,
Happy themselves, the Queen still happiest found,
And plighted maids still wished their lovers’ lives
Conformed to his. Such manhood wrapt him round,
So winsome were his grace and knightly look,
The dames at court their lesser spoil forsook,
And wove a net to snare him, and their mood
Grew warmer for his coldness; and the hearts
Of those most heartless beat with quicker blood,
Foiled of his love; yet, heedless of their arts,