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scarf is bound upon my breast, Your colours dance upon my crest,— They have been soil'd by dust and rain, And they must wear a darker stain.

I mark'd thy tears as fast they fell, I saw but heard not thy farewell, I gave my steed the spur and rein,— I dared not look on thee again.

My cheek is pale, but not with fears, And I have dash'd aside my tears; This woman's softness of my breast Will vanish when my spear's in rest