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A sword Shame brandished, straight and long,

Fine tempered, and exceeding strong.

On secret stithy was the blade

Of suffering and long vigils made,

And she a wondrous shield had framed

Which Fear-of-ill-renown was named;

Of wood it was, on shoulder slung,

And painted o’er with many a tongue.

Pity, she struck across the head,

Who yielded her as life were fled.

But to her aid swift ran Desire,

A noble knight with heart afire,

And joined with Shame in furious strife.

A sword he bare, called Joyous-Life,

And did a shield called Ease employ,

Decked out with happiness and joy.

He struck at Shame, but she his drift

Forefended, with her shield uplift,

And ’scaped his sword-point void of scratch.

Then she with ready hand did catch

Her chance, and brought her shield adown

With murderous force against his crown,

And might, as prone he lay beneath

Her feet, have clove him to the teeth,

Had God not stayed her purpose fell,

And sent a champion hight Hide-Well.

A warrior skilled and good was he,

Yet secret and right hard to see.

The sword he held, of peace was fain,

Like to a tongue half cleft in twain,