Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/274

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Forsooth she nought was present there

But worn with grief, and wan with care

Could not defend herself nor flee,

Hearing how Manfred wretchedly

Lay dead and cold, head, hands, and feet.

And when these tidings men repeat

To good King Charles, how both these men

Like caitiffs fled the combat, then

On both he freely worked his will,

Giving command to slay and kill

Them and their fellows who had stood

To aid their impious hardihood.

This noble prince, whose deeds I sing,

Of many a tale hath been the spring.

May God preserve both night and day

His body, soul, and heirs I pray,

And grant such wisdom as ne’er fails:

The pride he conquered of Marseilles,

Whose rebel burghers’ heads lopped he

Ere yet high rule in Sicily

To him was given, where he as king

Was crowned, and vicar minist’ring

For all the Empire: but to write

His deeds at full must one indite

A ponderous tome.

See what became

Of all these favourites of fame

And Fortune.

Doth she not, I ask.

Make fools of those who calmly bask

Beneath her smiles?

At first they find

All fair, then comes a stab behind.