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TO R. C. S.
 
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189

TO R. C. S.

Dear General, in the Age of Chivalry—
That Golden Age of Manhood, whose lost seed
Blossom'd in you—true men of loyal breed
Bow'd under kingly swords, on bended knee,
And rose with Knighthood holy, sworn to be
Champions of Right and guardians at her need,
Their life the errand of some noble deed
Halo'd by History, crown'd by Poesy.
But Nature, first Knight-maker then as now,
(For Kings were but her servants and are still,)
Put her great seal of Knighthood on your brow,
And we behold you sacred to her will,
Knowing why on your thigh the sword is seen
And on your hair the civic wreath is green.