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As though they feared some wrong they’d done,

Then lovingly embraced anon,

And then once more did they retreat,

A-playing with their winsome feet

A thousand antic turns; so quaint

And strange they were, that I should paint

Their wonders feebly did I try

To show the supple subtlety

With which their lithe light bodies swayed;

Such tumult in my breast it made

As never dance and song I deem

Had done before in sooth or dream.

STOOD awhile, as one entranced.

To watch how wondrously they danced,

Till tripped across the sward to me

A winsome dame, hight Courtesy.

Past power of words I found her fair,

Bewitching, bright, and debonair.

(May God preserve her life from harm)

At once with voice that seemed to charm

All fear away, she cried : Fair sir.

Wilt thou not deign thy foot to stir

In jocund dance?