Had he—but his hanger he halfway drew—
Then paused, thrust it clap in its sheath again
And bowed to the Lady and strode away;
Up, vault, on his steed—and we rode amain
Gay to his towers that merry day.
He loved and was loved,—why, I knew!—for look,
All other sports for the chase he forsook;
To ride in the Raglan marches and hawk
And to hunt and to wander. And found a lair,
In the Strongbow forest, of bush and of rock,