Читать книгу The Honour of Savelli - S. Levett Yeats - Страница 5

Table of Contents

I.

He rydes untoe ye Dragon's Gate,

And blowes a ryngynge calle:

A gallant Knyghte in armoure bryghte,

'Twere sadde toe see him falle.

Deare Sayntes of Mercy steele hys harte,

And nerve hys arme withalle!

II.

Noe glove bears he uponne hys creste,

And lettynge droppe hys visor's barres,

I sawe hys starke soule lookynge forthe,

Toe meete ye whysperes of ye starres.

True Knyghte of God, whose arme is stronge,

Whose harte is pure, whose lance is longe.

III.

Lette wyn, lette lose, belyke 'tis true,

Ye issue of ye daye will bee,

Notte toe ye dreamers; butte toe those

Who stayke their alle on victorie.

Notte to ye skiffes uponne ye streames,

Butte ye stronge shippes uponne ye sea.

Vanity Fair, 12th October, 1893.