All courteous are by kind; and ever proud With friendly offices to help the good. In every land we have a larger space Than what is known to you of mortal race; Where we with green adorn our fairy bowers, 500 And even this grove, unseen before, is ours. Know farther; every lady clothed in white, And, crown'd with oak and laurel every knight, Are servants to the Leaf, by liveries known Of innocence; and I myself am one. Saw you not her, so graceful to behold, In white attire, and crown'd with radiant gold? The sovereign lady of our land is she, Diana call'd, the Queen of Chastity: And, for the spotless name of maid she bears, 510 That Agnus castus in her hand appears; And all her train, with leafy chaplets crown'd, Were for unblamed virginity renown'd; But those the chief and highest in command Who bear those holy branches in their hand: The knights adorn'd with laurel crowns are they, Whom death nor danger ever could dismay, Victorious names, who made the world obey; Who, while they lived, in deeds of arms excell'd, And after death for deities were held. 520 But those who wear the woodbine on their brow, Were knights of love, who never broke their vow; Firm to their plighted faith, and ever free From fears and fickle chance, and jealousy. The lords and ladies, who the woodbine bear, As true as Tristram and Isotta were. But what are those, said I, the unconquer'd nine, Who, crown'd with laurel-wreaths, in golden armour shine? And who the knights in green, and what the train Of ladies dress'd with daisies on the plain? 530 Why both the bands in worship disagree, And some adore the flower, and some the tree?