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To him that token-flower brought
Woe more than words could speak;
And the brave Rupert's true heart seemed
Full even as 'twould break.
The Ladye to her Father's Hall
Went gaily bounding back:
More pensively Sir Rupert paced
Along his homeward track.
And welcome was a gallant guest
Who that night sat him by;
They had been friends in early youth,
Brothers in chivalrie.
"What aileth thee," Sir Maurice said,
"That thou dost shun the bowl?
That cloud upon thy brow bespeaks
A sorrow on thy soul—
Ha! is it Love? that thou dost wear
Yon token on thy breast?"
For now the fatal flower peeped out
From Rupert's broidered vest.
And all the tale of woe is told—
And all Love's misery—
And Maurice cried, "The morrow's morn
Thou shalt away with me—
