Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/76

Rh

Young as he was, none better ruled the speed Or curb'd the mettle of the wayward steed, None better knew the hunter's gentle craft, None could wing from the bow a truer shaft; And noble was his courtesy and bland, Graceful his bearing in the saraband; He knew the learned scroll the clerk displays, And touch'd the lute to the fine poet's lays; And many bright eyes would their glances fling On the young victor in the tilters' ring.

Young as he was, the seal was on his heart, That burning impress which may not depart Where it has once been set, Love's fiery seal: But little need I dwell on what all feel; Gay, grave, cold, proud, stern, high, say is there one Whom at some time Love has not breathed upon?