Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love. འ III. O thought Lord Cranstoun, as I ween, While, pondering deep the tender scene, He rode through Branksome's hawthorn green. But the Page shouted wild and shrill, A stately knight came pricking on. IV. UT no whit weary did he seem, When, dancing in the sunny beam, He mark'd the crane on the Baron's crest; For his ready spear was in his rest. Few were the words, and stern and high, That mark'd the foemen's feudal hate; For question fierce, and proud reply, Gave signal soon of dire debate. Their very coursers seem'd to know That each was other's mortal foe, And snorted fire, when wheel'd around, To give each knight his vantage ground. V. N rapid round the Baron bent; He sigh'd a sigh, and pray'd a prayer; The prayer was to his patron saint, The sigh was to his ladye fair. Stout Deloraine nor sigh'd nor pray'd, Nor saint, nor ladye, call'd to aid; But he stoop'd his head, and couch'd his spear, And spurr'd his steed to full career. VI. TERN was the dint the Borderer lent! Bent backwards to his horse's tail, And his plumes went scattering on the gale; The tough ash spear, so stout and true, But Cranstoun's lance, of more avail, Pierced through, like silk, the Borderer's mail; Through shield, and jack, and acton past, VII. UT when he rein'd his courser round, And saw his foeman on the ground And tend him in his doubtful state, And lead him to Branksome castle-gate: For the kinsman of the maid he loved. Short shrift will be at my dying day."— VIII. WAY in speed Lord Cranstoun rode; The Goblin-Page behind abode ; The Dwarf espied the Mighty Book! Until the secret he had found. IX. HE iron band, the iron clasp, For when the first he had undone, It closed as he the next begun. Those iron clasps, that iron band, A sheeling seem a palace large, And youth seem age, and age seem youth— All was delusion, nought was truth. X. E had not read another spell, When on his cheek a buffet fell, |