THE Merry Gallant girds his sword, And dons his helm in mickle glee! He leaves behind his lady love for tented fields and deeds which prove Stout hardiment and constancy. When round him rings the din of arms, -- The notes of high-born chivalry, He thinks not of his bird in bower, And scorns to own Love's tyrant power Amid the combats of the Free. Yet in the midnight watch, I trow, When cresset lights all feebly burn, Will hermit Fancy sometimes roam With eager travel back to home, Where smiles and tears await -- return. "Away! away!" he boldly sings, "Be thrown those thoughts which cling to me; That mournful look and glistering eye -- That quivering lip and broken sigh; -- Why crowd each shrine of memory? "O, that to-morrow's dawn would rise To light me on my path of glory, Where I may pluck from niggard fame Her bravest laurels -- and the name That long shall live in minstrel story! "Then, when my thirst for fame is dead, Soft love may claim his wonted due; But now, when levelled lances gleam, And chargers snort, and banners stream, To lady's love a long adieu!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAELICA: 100 by FULKE GREVILLE TO HIM THAT WAS CRUCIFIED by WALT WHITMAN ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 16. TO CALEB HARDINGE, M.D. by MARK AKENSIDE TILL THE MIST PASSES by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE DAY by MARGARET ESTELLA BIGHAM IN AN AEROPLANE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |