As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faëry,
Earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome;
Nor thou disdain, that ere my fame become 5
A star among the stars of mortal night,
If it indeed may cleave its natal gloom,
Its doubtful promise thus I would unite
With thy belovèd name, thou Child of love and light.
The toil which stole from thee so many an hour, 10
Is ended,—and the fruit is at thy feet!
No longer where the woods to frame a bower