Thus spake Sir Hugh the vassal knight [15]
To Alice, child of old Du Clos,
As spotless fair, as airy light
As that moon-shiny doe,
[[470]]The gold star on its brow, her sire's ancestral crest!
For ere the lark had left his nest, 20
She in the garden bower below
Sate loosely wrapt in maiden white,
Her face half drooping from the sight,
A snow-drop on a tuft of snow!

O close your eyes, and strive to see 25
The studious maid, with book on knee,—
Ah! earliest-open'd flower;
While yet with keen unblunted light
The morning star shone opposite
The lattice of her bower— 30
Alone of all the starry host,
As if in prideful scorn
Of flight and fear he stay'd behind,
To brave th' advancing morn.

O! Alice could read passing well, 35
And she was conning then
Dan Ovid's mazy tale of loves,
And gods, and beasts, and men.

The vassal's speech, his taunting vein,
It thrill'd like venom thro' her brain; 40
Yet never from the book
She rais'd her head, nor did she deign
The knight a single look.

'Off, traitor friend! how dar'st thou fix
Thy wanton gaze on me? [45]
And why, against my earnest suit,
Does Julian send by thee?
[[471]]'Go, tell thy Lord, that slow is sure:
Fair speed his shafts to-day!
I follow here a stronger lure, [50]
And chase a gentler prey.'

She said: and with a baleful smile
The vassal knight reel'd off—
Like a huge billow from a bark
Toil'd in the deep sea-trough, [55]
That shouldering sideways in mid plunge,
Is travers'd by a flash.
And staggering onward, leaves the ear
With dull and distant crash.

And Alice sate with troubled mien [60]
A moment; for the scoff was keen,
And thro' her veins did shiver!
Then rose and donn'd her dress of green,
Her buskins and her quiver.

There stands the flow'ring may-thorn tree! [65]
From thro' the veiling mist you see
The black and shadowy stem;—
Smit by the sun the mist in glee
Dissolves to lightsome jewelry—
Each blossom hath its gem! [70]

[[472]]With tear-drop glittering to a smile,
The gay maid on the garden-stile
Mimics the hunter's shout.
'Hip! Florian, hip! To horse, to horse!
Go, bring the palfrey out. [75]

'My Julian's out with all his clan.
And, bonny boy, you wis,
Lord Julian is a hasty man,
Who comes late, comes amiss.'