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II.

Scarce had he ridden one short week-one short week

and a dayWhen he saw twelve Spanish knights approach, all bent.

to cross his way; And his squire said to his master bold, ' I pray thee turn

thy steed, For little hope is left us now, save in our coursers' speed.' • How ! think'st thou, craven-hearted squire, Sir D'Ar

court replied, · That from the lance of mortal foe I e'er have turned aside ? Twelve Spaniards are there in the field, and we are only

two, But wear I not my lady's scarf-her scarf of gold and blue ??

III.

Then up rode Don Pedrillo, and tauntingly spoke he, * I envy thee thy fortune, Knight, whate'er thy name may

be, For if thou’rt slain by my right hand, a happy death thou'lt

die.' Sir Eustace placed his lance in rest, but deigned him no re

ply;

As thunder rides the lightning's wings, so rode he his good

steed, And soon beneath his charger's feet, he saw Pedrillo bleed.

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Then up came Garcia Perez-Don Carlos by his side·0! dearly shalt thou rue, Sir Knight, thy self-deceiving

pride! Sir Eustace stroked his gallant barb, and with a sudden

bound, Hurled Garcia Perez from his seat, sore mangled, on the

ground; Then turning on Don Carlos, like a lion in his wrath, He stretched him with one desperate blow, all stiff across

the path.

IV.

Nine Spaniards still remained behind, but motionless they

stood, And looked with silent wonder on that young knight's

hardihood :• Come one—come all !' Sir Eustace cried, “I neither

yield nor fly, But for the Lady Isabel, or you or I must die.' Then the Count Alcaras recognised Sir Eustace D'Argen

court, His favoured rival in the love of Isabel D'Etours ; And on he urged his dastard friends, and as a cloud they

came

6

Base traitors !' shouted D'Argencourt, ' bow can ye fight

for 'shame?

Such odds were never seen before-nine armed men 'gainst

one! God guard thee, Lady Isabel-my race of life is run !'

Yet fiercely did Sir Eustace fight, and fast flowed Spanish

gore, Till the Count Alcaras came behind-he dared not come

before And stabbed the brave knight in the back—a false, disho

nest blow ;Sir Eustace turned him round, and fixed one long gaze

on his foe, Then feeble fell his gallant arm, and clouds swam round

his head, And the Spaniards raised a joyful shout, for they thought

Sir Eustace dead. They bound his arms behind his back, they tied him to

a tree, And beside him stuck his broken lance, in graceless mock

ery ;• And now, Sir Knight,' Alcaras cried, “I'll wear this gew

gaw too,Methinks I

guess who wove this scarf—this scarf of gold and blue.

Away! my friends, there's little breath in proud Sir D'Ar

gencourt, Away ! my friends, I win her yet-fair Isabel D'Etours !

VI.

Bright shines the sun upon the waves -the waters of blue

Garonne, But brighter shine those diamond eyes in the lists at Rous

silon;

And trumpets bray, and banners stream, and chargers gal

lop round, And noble hearts beat quick for praise, with many an ach

ing bound; But who is she who wins all looks for whom all ride the

ring To gain a smile of whose dark eye were glory for a king ? Ha! did you mark that sudden blush—that deadly pale

ness then See you the knight on whom is fixed so eagerly her ken ? • It is the Count Alcaras,' for his Spanish crest she knew, • But why wears he that plaited scarf—that scarf of gold

and blue ?'

VII.

• I took it, lady,' boastingly, the crafty Spaniard said, . From one I forced to yield beneatb my more victorious

blade ;

He gave it me with right good will, his life was all he sought, Too cheaply with the coward's death, so rich a prize I

bought.' • Now, by St Louis ! braggart base!' fair Isabel replied,

I tell thee in thy craven teeth, that loudly thou hast lied !' Tben bared she strait her snow-white hand, and down she

threw her glove, - Oh! is there is any knight who here, for honour or for

love, Will make the Count Alcaras his unhallowed falsehood rue, And win me back that well-known scarf—that scarf of gold

and blue ?'

VIII.

A hundred swords leaped forth at once, to do her proud

behest, A hundred lords were at her feet, a hundred spears in rest; But she has singled from them all that solitary knight Who wears his coal-black vizor down, nor yet has proved

his might. The heralds sound the onset, and they meet with deadly

shock ;The Count has fallen from his horse,--the knight sits as

a rock;

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