For love of gentlest, softest-sided fair ✿ Whose like is not of maids or mortal strain:
The shafts of glances from those eyne who shot ✿ And led her conquering host to battle-plain
Red men and white men and the clashing Knights ✿ And, crying “Look to thee!” came forth amain:
And, when down charging, finger-tips she showed ✿ That gloomed like blackest night for sable stain,
The Whites I could not rescue, could not save ✿ While ecstasy made tear-floods rail and rain:
The Pawns and Castles with their Queens fell low ✿ And fled the Whites nor could the brunt sustain:
Yea, with her shaft of glance at me she shot ✿ And soon that shaft had pierced my heart and brain:
She gave me choice between her hosts, and I ✿ The Whites like moonlight first to choose was fain,
Saying, “This argent folk best fitteth me ✿ I love them, but the Red by thee be ta’en!”
She playèd me for free accepted stake ✿ Yet amorous mercy I could ne’er obtain: