VI.
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y fits less frequent from the crowdWas heard the burst of laughter loudFor still, as squire and archer staredOn that dark face and matted beardTheir glee and game declined.All gazed at length in silence drear,Unbroke, save when in comrade’s earSome yeoman, wondering in his fear,Thus whispered forth his mind:—“Saint Mary! saw’st thou e’er such sight?How pale his cheek, his eye how bright,Whene’er the firebrand’s fickle lightGlances beneath his cowl!Full on our lord he sets his eye;For his best palfrey, would not IEndure that sullen scowl.”
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