The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed With a Memoir by the Rev. Derwent Coleridge. Fourth Edition. In Two Volumes |
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 | The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed |  |
He knew not; but his knee he bent
Before her in most knightly fashion,
And grew superbly eloquent
About her beauty, and his passion.
He said that she was very fair,
And that she warbled like a linnet,
And that he loved her, though he ne'er
Had looked upon her till that minute:
He said, that all the Court possessed
Of gay or grave, of fat or slender,
Poor things! were only fit at best,
To hold a candle to her splendour:
He vowed that when she once should take
A little proper state upon her,
All lutes for her delight would wake,
All lances shiver in her honour:
He grieved to mention that a Jew
Had seized for debt his grand pavilion,
And he had little now, 'twas true,
To offer, but a heart and pillion;
But what of that? In many a fight,
Though he who shouldn't say it said it,
He still had borne him like a knight,
And had his share of blows and credit;
And if she would but condescend
To meet him at the priest's to-morrow,
And be henceforth his guide, his friend,
In every toil, in every sorrow,
They'd sail instanter from the Downs;
His hands just now were quite at leisure;
And, if she fancied foreign crowns,
He'd win them,—with the greatest pleasure.
Before her in most knightly fashion,
And grew superbly eloquent
About her beauty, and his passion.
He said that she was very fair,
And that she warbled like a linnet,
And that he loved her, though he ne'er
Had looked upon her till that minute:
He said, that all the Court possessed
Of gay or grave, of fat or slender,
Poor things! were only fit at best,
To hold a candle to her splendour:
He vowed that when she once should take
A little proper state upon her,
All lutes for her delight would wake,
All lances shiver in her honour:
He grieved to mention that a Jew
Had seized for debt his grand pavilion,
And he had little now, 'twas true,
To offer, but a heart and pillion;
But what of that? In many a fight,
Though he who shouldn't say it said it,
141
And had his share of blows and credit;
And if she would but condescend
To meet him at the priest's to-morrow,
And be henceforth his guide, his friend,
In every toil, in every sorrow,
They'd sail instanter from the Downs;
His hands just now were quite at leisure;
And, if she fancied foreign crowns,
He'd win them,—with the greatest pleasure.
| The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed | |