html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }"Now arouse thee, Sir Knight, from thine indolent ease,
Fling boldly thy banner abroad in the breeze,
Strike home for thy lady—strive hard for the prize,
And thy guerdon shall beam from her love-lighted eyes!"
"I shrink not the trial," that bluff knight replied—
"But I battle—not I—for an unwilling bride;
Where the boldest may venture to do and to dare,
My pennon shall flutter—my bugle peal there!
"I quail not at aught in the struggle of life,
I'm not all unproved even now in the strife;
But the wreath that I win, all unaided—alone,
Round a faltering brow it shall never be thrown!"
"Now fie on thy manhood, to deem it a sin
That she loveth the glory thy falchion might win!
Let them doubt of thy prowess and fortune no more;
Up! Sir Knight, for thy Lady—and do thy devoir!"
"She hath shrunk from my side, she hath failed in her trust,
Not relied on my blade, but remember'd its rust;
It shall brighten once more in the field of its fame,
But it is not for her I would now win a name."
The knight rode away, and the lady she sigh'd
When he featly as ever his steed would bestride,
While the mould from the banner he shook to the wind
Seem'd to fall on the breast he left aching behind.
But the rust on his glaive and the rust in his heart
Had corroded too long and too deep to depart,
And the brand only brighten'd in honor once more,
When the heart ceased to beat on the fray-trampled shore.