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For the glances that I cast around meet fortune's foul disdain;
And I will blot the legend, as an accursed screed.
'Twas writ in Christian letters plain that all the world might read:
'My good right arm can gain me more altho' its range be short,
Then all I know by eye-sight or the boundless range of thought.'
The blue tahala fluttering bright upon my armored brow
In brilliant hue assorts but ill with the lot I meet with now.
I cast away this gaudy cap, it bears the purple dye;
Not that my love is faithless, for I own her constancy;
But for the fear that there may be, within the maiden's sight,
A lover worthier of her love than this unhappy knight."
With that he took his lance in hand, and placed it in its rest,
And o'er the plain with bloody spur the mournful Celin pressed.
On his steed's neck he threw the reins, the reins hung dangling low,
That the courser might have liberty to choose where he would go;
And he said: "My steed, oh, journey well, and make thy way to find
The bliss which still eludes me, tho' 'tis ever in my mind.


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