Page:Once a Week June to Dec 1863.pdf/108

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And in its stead the waving plume Shall crest my woman’s brow, The armour gall my woman’s limbs;— What! art thou recreant now?”

Oh! be not wroth, sweet ladye mine, For by my sword I swear, It needs not I should courage learn From any ladye fair.”

Now say’st thou well, and forth shalt thou At once mine own true knight; Myself will buckle on thy spurs As thine own valour bright!”

Forth, forth he went, and round his arms On that all-glorious day His prowess wreathed a coronet No Time shall pluck away.

And still his children’s children tell Their valiant grandsire’s fame; And still his children’s children bless The Ladye Edith’s name,

Who, zealous for the “English Rose,” Herself arrayed her lord, And gave to Valour’s deeds of might Young Beauty’s best reward.