His peregrine fierce at a heron-quarry,—
In his stirrups rising, thus—as it passed,
By the jesses caught and to her did carry,
Lingering slender and tall by a rose
Whence she pulled the berries—But no two foes
Her eyes and Sir Hugh's!—And I swear each felt
A song in their hearts!—For I heard him quaver
Somewhat and then—by Mary!—he knelt!—
And the Lady herself in her words did waver
And wonder with smiles. Then daintily took