"She romid up and down, and as she liste She gathrith flouris party white and rede, To make a sotill garlande for her hede; And as an aungel hevynly she song." The "grete Tour, that was so thik and strong" was, we hear, "evyne joynaunt to the gardyn wall;" and Emilie was walking and singing in the garden, while the imprisoned Palamon gazed from his high dungeon window in the tower, "And so befell by aventure or caas, That through a window, thik of many a bar Of iron grete, and square as any spar, He cast his eyin on Emilia; And therewithall he blent, and cryid A! As though he stongin were unto the herte." Then Arcite gazes from the same window-- "And with that sight her beauty hurt him so, That, if that Palamon was wounded sore, Arcit was hurt as much as he, or more." So far a royal poet's fancy. Now take a kingly fact; the fact being also told in song-- "Now there was maid fast by the Touris wall A gardyn faire, and in the corneris set, Ane herbere greene, with wandis long and small Railit about, and so with treeis set Was all the place, and hawthorne hegis knet. * * * * * * "And therew^t kest I doun myn eye ageyne, Quhare as I saw walkyng under the toure, Full secretely, new cumyn hir to pleyne, The fairest or the freschest zoung floure That ever I sawe, methot before that houre, For quhick sodayne abate, anon astert, The blude of all my bodie to my hert. "And though I stode abaiset tho a lyte, No wonder was; for quhy? my wittes all Were so ouercome wt pleasaunce and delyte, Only through letting of myn eyen fall, That sudaynly my hert became hir thrall For ever, of free wyll; for of menace There was no tokyn in hir suete face." Then follows a young poet's lovely and rapturous description of the fair vision, who was, indeed, the Lady Jane, or Johanna Beaufort, daughter of John, Earl of Somerset, and granddaughter of John of Gaunt. Their loves prospered, as they deserved to do, and James married Lady Jane, at Windsor; the hero of Agincourt being then our king. James was crowned King of Scotland in 1424, and the lovely lady that he loved so well was his Queen. In 1437, at the Abbey of Black Friars at Perth, James, who strove in vain to rule his turbulent and brutal nobles, was murdered by Sir Robert Graham; what time the heroic Catherine Douglas tried to bar the door against murder, and had her fair arm broken, while the brave and loving Queen was wounded by the assassins. Surely this royal love romance may give us sweet and tender fancies as we gaze upon the gardens and the towers of Royal Windsor. The story is a true Thames episode.