Gone is the night, the morn breaks white
Across the eastward hill;
The knightly sire by the dead fire
Sits in the dawning chill.
By the hearth white, there sits the knight,
Dead as the sunken fire;
But on his face is writ the grace
Of his fulfill’d desire.
John Payne (b. 1841).
This poem is cut down one-half and thereby loses much of its effect. Two adventures, in which the Knight refuses temptation and adheres to his oath, are entirely omitted.