He tore away the housings that 'neath his saddle hang,

He rent his lady's favor as with a lion's fang--

The silken ribbon, bright with gold, which in his crest he bore,

By loved Celinda knotted there, now loved by him no more.

He drew, as rage to madness turned, her portrait from his

breast;

He spat on it, and to that face derisive jeers addressed.

"Why should I dress in robes of joy, whose heart is wounded

sore,

By curses, that requite so ill the duteous love I bore?