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And deemest thou that I dared this deed, Ladye, for love of thee; The honour that guides the soldier's lance Is mistress enough for me.

Enough for me to ride the ring, The victor's crown to wear; But not in honour of the eyes Of any ladye there.

I had a brother whom I lost Through thy proud crueltie, And far more was to me his love, Than woman's love can be.

I came to triumph o'er the pride Through which that brother fell, I laugh to scorn thy love and thee, And now, proud dame, farewell!