KNIGHT-ERRANT

Onward he gallops through enchanted gloom.

The spectres of the forest, dark and dim,

And shadows of vast death environ him —

Onward he spurs victorious over doom.

Before his eyes that love's far fires illume —

Where courage sits, impregnable and grim —

The form and features of her beauty swim,

Beckoning him on with looks that fears consume.

The thought of her distress, her lips to kiss,

Mails him with triple might; and so at last

To Lust's huge keep he comes; its giant wall,

Wild-towering, frowning from the precipice;

And through its gate, borne like a bugle blast,

O'er night and hell he thunders to his all.