"You blackguard !" cries the rural wench, "Til both their Lords my Second try, Sir Thrifty hath the means to die, XV. LORD ROLAND by the gay torchlight He broached my First, that jovial knight, The red stream went from wood to can, And the deuce a man knew how it ran, "Let the health go wide," Lord Ronald cried, "One cup to-night to the noblest Bride, And one to the stoutest Foe!" Lord Ronald kneeled, when the morning came, Low in his mistress' bower; And she gave him my Second, that beauteous dame, Her silver shears were not at hand; As she cleft it with her lover's brand, And "Ride, and ride," Lord Ronald cried, "For he that woos the noblest Bride Must beard the stoutest Foe!" Lord Ronald stood, when the day shone fair, In his garb of glittering mail; And marked how my Whole was crumbling there With the battle's iron hail : The bastion and the battlement On many a craven crown, Like rocks from some huge mountain rent, Were trembling darkly down: "Whate'er betide," Lord Ronald cried, As he bade his trumpets blow"I shall win to-day the noblest Bride, Or fall by the stoutest Foe!" XVI. I graced Don Pedro's revelry, And this that gallant Spaniard did, He vowed a vow, that noble knight, To make his only sport the fight, Till he had dragged as he was bid |