Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1886-09-01
Written for the Sunday MINER.
A kNIGHTLY ROMANCE.
BY AL. W. CROWCLL.

Gloves that were won with q life, or lost;
Hearts like shuttle-cocks, battered and worn
: For love of a ''ladye'' highlie born,
soothed with smiles condescendingly sweet,
Or a love-knot tossed to the cavaliers feet:
What was it all when all wal done?
An encounter, a battle. lost md won!
Of all the warm young blood that flowed,
Of all the knights that onward rode,
Lance at rest and pennon aloat
Out from the highway and over the moat,
None 80 merry and none go gay
As brave Sir Alafrede, blest to-day
With a smile from the lips of his 'ladye fayre
And a Every n lock of her sun-gilt hair.
Beneath Portcullis, the draw-bridge DER,
Which manya time he had trod before,
The charger trod with his crested head
Reared like a Norman's born and bred,
Tossing his plumes in the warm sweet air,
As a charger should who is reared to dare
A knights ~encounter). and into the gate,
Where the couchant lions watch and wait;
sentinels thronged on either hand
To guard the way to the Canaan land;
Hating at last, q knightly throng,
The marble door-stair lined along.
The CLEAN Of satin, the sheen of lace,
A breath of perfume thrilling space,
She stands before them, crowned with all
That holds a Knights heart held in thrall;
And oh, her beauty is 30 sweet
The Knights bend humbly at her feet,
And when she speaks the ones that stir
Are music, like the face of her;
For in her face, which love endears,
Are symphonies the spirit hears.
Her eyes are speaking wells of light,
Like singing stars when stars are bright,
And in her cheeks the roses blow,
To vie with rose-ripe lips below.
But ali She speaks, and music stilled
Before, its waking bliss is thrilled!
''Sir Knight, who holds my earned gage
That I am thine by contest won;
1t well becomes my humble page
To bend allow before my feet,
Blu not a knight for contest meet;
Arise, I pray, till 1 have done!
"For I would speak as maid to man,
Forgetful of this newer tie,
s%o-(forI know thy spirit can,
Because of inbred chivalry,
Be patient with the words of me),
So-listen, ere l make reply.
"My sire upon his bed Of death
Betrothed to thee, Sir Alafrede,
This hand of mine, if, on thy faith,
Thou wouldst in knightly chivalry
All other Knights away from me;
So won, this hand should be the need.
To-day by essay of thy skill
Thou prov'dst the right to be my lord,
And I, my fathers daughter, will
Make good the fathers dying word;
But, wait, Sir knight, till you have heard.
still would 1 test thy trusty sword!
For 10, before the contest came,
Another owned my hearts best blood
No scion of a noble name
tanned my hearts love into flame.
VINO loved bis ladye and who wooed
n gentleness devoid of blame.
But lowliest of my servitors,
MY humble Page alone is he,
70 wearer Of the knightly spurs,
But falrest of my castle band,
He asks to battle for my hand
With thee, Sir Alafrede!' quoth she,
he Page stepped nimbly from her train,
nd sooth he was a ''goodlie wayne:"
MI uOV 4OlU on IOlC.
little rivulets of gold,
nd shaplie was his form witbal.
nd neither little, neither tall:
Tho in age a trihe green,
tender for his years, l ween,
eing, fear, not yet eighteen;
his was the youth of low degree
no dared a knight in rivalry!
momen stood the Knight to gage
his too-presuming gallant Page;
Will forget my Knighthood," said he.
I'D battle for your hand. fayre ladye!
hat use continuing the tale?
e know the Page could never fail.
such a case. He slew the KNIGHT
no my friend, you're hardly right!
lie little Page was doomed to fall.
ID she-forgot him-that is all
wed the knight and shed no tears.
It lived contented many years!
DILLON, Montana, August "a. 1904