Chapter 45 No.45

For he had met her in the wood by chance,

And, having drunk her beauty's wildering spell,

His heart shook like the pennon of a lance

That quivers in a breeze's sudden swell,

And thenceforth, in a close-infolded trance,

From mistily golden deep to deep he fell;

Till earth did waver and fade far away

Beneath the hope in whose war