The buds were swelling in the brooding dark,
And dreaming of a lordlier dawn the lark,—
Paced to and fro the youth, and dreamed on glory,
And watched his arms. Great knights in mailéd hood
On steeds of stone sat ranged along the aisle,
And frowned upon the aspirant: “Who is he
Would claim the name and join the company
Of slayers of Soldans swart and Dragons grim,
Not ignorant of wanded wizards’ guile,
And deserts parched, and waters wide to swim?”