Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/92

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He lean'd on the soft grassy bed and slept, And when he waked found they their watch had kept. Then sprang he on his steed. The sun was high, Morning's last blush was fading from the sky O'er a fair city; there with pious will He turn'd, his vow’d thanksgiving to fulfil. He enter'd victor; and around him drew The multitude, who could not sate their view, Gazing upon him who the black knight slew, And yet so young, so fair. Though somewhat now His cheek had lost its custom'd summer glow, With paleness from his wound, yet was not one Could say his peer they e'er had look'd upon. He found a stately church, and, bending there, His spoil devoted,—pray'd his lover prayer;