8
THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK.
With war-music round them poured,
With the sunshine on the sword,
With the battlemented towers,
Crimsoning in the morning hours,
Girdled by their southern clime,
Stand a group of olden time.
They are gathered,—wherefore now?
'Tis the Peacock's noble vow!
Vow that binds a knightly faith
Sure as love and strong as death.
Doth that kneeling bright-haired dame
Succour or protection claim?
Is she wronged, is she forsaken?
Wherefore must that vow be taken?
What wild tale of old romance
Haunteth that bright lady's glance?
