The thoughts to them a moment. Now is seen
A knight’s athletic form in armour’s dazzling sheen.
Along the terrace, with majestic stride,
He onward passed below the highest tower;
And each step witnessed to the noble pride
That fills a warrior’s heart—the sense of power,
Of free-born might, and fame’s immortal dower.
His shield he had not, but his keen sword hung
Bright-jewelled by his side, and like a flower
His gay plume nodded, whilst he swiftly strung