"Sir, you are thanked. My cause is dead. Why should you toil to break A grave, and fall therein?" she said. He did not pause but spake: "For my vow's sake." "Can such vows be, Sir--to God's ear, Not to God's will?" "My vow Remains: God heard me there as here," He said, with reverent brow, "Both then and now." They gazed together, he and she, The minute while he spoke; And when he ceased, she suddenly Looked round upon her folk As though she woke. "Fight, Sir," she said; "my prayers in pain Shall be your fellowship." He whispered one among her train,-- "To-morrow bid her keep This staff and scrip." The scrip was a kind of wallet or bag carried by pilgrims. Now we have a few sensuous touches, of the kind in which Rossetti excels all other poets, because they always are kept within the extreme limits of artistic taste. She sent him a sharp sword, whose belt About his body there As sweet as her own arms he felt. He kissed its blade, all bare, Instead of her. She sent him a green banner wrought With one white lily stem, To bind his lance with when he fought. He writ upon the same And kissed her name. "Wrought" here signifies embroidered with the design of the white lily. Remember that the Queen's name is white lily (Blanchelys), and the flower is her crest. It was the custom for every knight to have fastened to his lance a small flag or pennon--also called sometimes "pennant." She sent him a white shield, whereon She bade that he should trace His will. He blent fair hues that shone, And in a golden space He kissed her face. Being appointed by the Queen her knight, it would have been more customary that she should tell him what design he should put upon his shield--heraldic privileges coming from the sovereign only. But she tells him generously that he may choose any design that he pleases. He returns the courtesy very beautifully by painting the Queen's face on the shield upon a background of gold, and kissing the image. By "space" here must be understood a quarter, or compartment, of the shield, according to the rules of heraldry. Born of the day that died, that eve Now dying sank to rest; As he, in likewise taking leave, Once with a heaving breast Looked to the west. And there the sunset skies unseal'd, Like lands he never knew, Beyond to-morrow's battle-field Lay open out of view To ride into.