Foul slander, ready still to soil All that is bright and fair, With more than Time's destructiveness, Who never learn'd to spare! The morn was bright, but posts had come Bringing no tidings fair, For knit was Edward's royal brow And full of thoughtful care. The lists were set; the parted sun Shone equal on the plain, And many a knight there manfully Strove fresh applause to gain. Good Lord James Talbot, and Sir Guy Of Brackenbury, he Who slew the Giant Iron arm On Cressy's famous lea. Were counted best; and pray'd the prince To give the sign that they Might run a course, and one receive The honours of the day. "Speed knights! perhaps those arms that shine In peace," Prince Edward said, "Before a se'nnight pass, may well In Gallic blood be dyed. "For here we learn that hostile bands Have gather'd in Touraine, And Clifford with his little troop, Are prisoners, or slain. "For with five hundred spears, how bold Soe'er his courage show, He never would withstand the shock Of such a host of foe." Fair Mary spoke not; but the blood Fled truant from her cheek, And left it pale as when day leaves Some mountain's snowy peak. But then there came the cry of horse, The east lea pricking o'er; And to the lists a weary page A tatter'd pennon bore. Fast came a knight, with blood-stain'd arms, And dusty panoply, And beaver down, and armed lance, In chivalric array. No crest, no arms, no gay device Upon his shield he wore, But a small knot beside his plume Of plain wild pinks he bore. For love, for love and chivalry, Lord Clifford rides the plain! And foul lies he who dares to say His honour ere knew stain! And Mary's cheek was blushing bright, And Mary's heart beat high, And Mary's breath, that fear oppressed, Came in a long glad sigh. Straight to the prince, the knight he rode, "I claim these lists," he cried, "Though late unto the field I come My suit be not denied. "For we have fought beside the Loire, And dyed our arms in blood, Nor ever ceased to wield the sword So long as rebels stood. "Hemmed in, I one time never thought To die in British land, Nor see my noble prince again, Nor kiss his royal hand. "But well fought every gallant squire, And well fought every knight, And rebels have been taught to feel The force of British might. "And now in humble tone they sue, To know thy high command, And here stand I these lists to claim, For a fair lady's hand. "For Mary's love and chivalry I dare the world to fight; And foul and bitterly he lies Who dares deny my right!"