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The fear that will not own it fear, The hope that cannot disappear; Faith clinging to its visions past, And trust confiding to the last. And thus it is: ay, let Love throw Aside his arrows and his bow; But let him not with one spell part, The veil that binds his eyes and heart. Woe for Love when his eyes shall be Open'd upon reality!

One day a neighbouring baron gave A revel to the fair and brave,— And knights upon their gallant steeds, And ladies on their palfreys gray, All shining in their gayest weeds, Held for the festival their way.