Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/96

Rh

When gazing on his treasured ring one night He saw clouds gather on the emerald's light. Like lightning he has flung him on the steed His hasty spur then urged to fiery speed. But leave we him to press his anxious way, His band to follow with what haste they may; And turn to the lorn princess who had kept, With all a woman's truth, the faith she wept Rather than spoke at parting. It was One Whose love another faith had bade her shun,— Ah! shame and sign of this our mortal state, That ever gentle love can turn to hate,— Had caused her all this misery. He brought A charge that she with arts unholy wrought: For he had seen his rival's picture press'd To its soft home and altar on her breast;