4WOOING

4WOOINGI know not how I came,New on my knightly journey,To win the fairest dameThat graced my maiden tourney.Chivalry’s lovely prizeWith all men’s gaze upon her,Why did she free her eyesOn me, to do me honour?Ah! ne’er had I my mindWith such high hope delighted,Had she not first inclined,And with her eyes invited.But never doubt I knew,Having their glance to cheer me,Until the day joy grewToo great, too sure, too near me.When hope a fear became,And passion, grown too tender,Now trembled at the shameOf a despised surrender;And where my love at firstSaw kindness in her smiling,I read her pride, and cursedThe arts of her beguiling.Till winning less than won,And liker wooed than wooing,Too late I turned undoneAway from my undoing;And stood beside the door,Whereto she followed, makingMy hard leave-taking moreHard by her sweet leave-taking.Her speech would have betrayedHer thought, had mine been colder:Her eyes distress had madeA lesser lover bolder.But no! Fond heart, distrust,Cried Wisdom, and consider:Go free, since go thou must;—And so farewell I bid her.And brisk upon my wayI smote the stroke to sever,And should have lost that dayMy life’s delight for ever:But when I saw her startAnd turn aside and tremble;—Ah! she was true, her heartI knew did not dissemble.

I know not how I came,New on my knightly journey,To win the fairest dameThat graced my maiden tourney.Chivalry’s lovely prizeWith all men’s gaze upon her,Why did she free her eyesOn me, to do me honour?Ah! ne’er had I my mindWith such high hope delighted,Had she not first inclined,And with her eyes invited.But never doubt I knew,Having their glance to cheer me,Until the day joy grewToo great, too sure, too near me.When hope a fear became,And passion, grown too tender,Now trembled at the shameOf a despised surrender;And where my love at firstSaw kindness in her smiling,I read her pride, and cursedThe arts of her beguiling.Till winning less than won,And liker wooed than wooing,Too late I turned undoneAway from my undoing;And stood beside the door,Whereto she followed, makingMy hard leave-taking moreHard by her sweet leave-taking.Her speech would have betrayedHer thought, had mine been colder:Her eyes distress had madeA lesser lover bolder.But no! Fond heart, distrust,Cried Wisdom, and consider:Go free, since go thou must;—And so farewell I bid her.And brisk upon my wayI smote the stroke to sever,And should have lost that dayMy life’s delight for ever:But when I saw her startAnd turn aside and tremble;—Ah! she was true, her heartI knew did not dissemble.

I know not how I came,New on my knightly journey,To win the fairest dameThat graced my maiden tourney.

I know not how I came,

New on my knightly journey,

To win the fairest dame

That graced my maiden tourney.

Chivalry’s lovely prizeWith all men’s gaze upon her,Why did she free her eyesOn me, to do me honour?

Chivalry’s lovely prize

With all men’s gaze upon her,

Why did she free her eyes

On me, to do me honour?

Ah! ne’er had I my mindWith such high hope delighted,Had she not first inclined,And with her eyes invited.

Ah! ne’er had I my mind

With such high hope delighted,

Had she not first inclined,

And with her eyes invited.

But never doubt I knew,Having their glance to cheer me,Until the day joy grewToo great, too sure, too near me.

But never doubt I knew,

Having their glance to cheer me,

Until the day joy grew

Too great, too sure, too near me.

When hope a fear became,And passion, grown too tender,Now trembled at the shameOf a despised surrender;

When hope a fear became,

And passion, grown too tender,

Now trembled at the shame

Of a despised surrender;

And where my love at firstSaw kindness in her smiling,I read her pride, and cursedThe arts of her beguiling.

And where my love at first

Saw kindness in her smiling,

I read her pride, and cursed

The arts of her beguiling.

Till winning less than won,And liker wooed than wooing,Too late I turned undoneAway from my undoing;

Till winning less than won,

And liker wooed than wooing,

Too late I turned undone

Away from my undoing;

And stood beside the door,Whereto she followed, makingMy hard leave-taking moreHard by her sweet leave-taking.

And stood beside the door,

Whereto she followed, making

My hard leave-taking more

Hard by her sweet leave-taking.

Her speech would have betrayedHer thought, had mine been colder:Her eyes distress had madeA lesser lover bolder.

Her speech would have betrayed

Her thought, had mine been colder:

Her eyes distress had made

A lesser lover bolder.

But no! Fond heart, distrust,Cried Wisdom, and consider:Go free, since go thou must;—And so farewell I bid her.

But no! Fond heart, distrust,

Cried Wisdom, and consider:

Go free, since go thou must;—

And so farewell I bid her.

And brisk upon my wayI smote the stroke to sever,And should have lost that dayMy life’s delight for ever:

And brisk upon my way

I smote the stroke to sever,

And should have lost that day

My life’s delight for ever:

But when I saw her startAnd turn aside and tremble;—Ah! she was true, her heartI knew did not dissemble.

But when I saw her start

And turn aside and tremble;—

Ah! she was true, her heart

I knew did not dissemble.

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