"
This nincum-fubby-diddle-boodle, he Went home, and did not GAWATN'S
laughter see! He waited till the moon, after three days, Gave promise of
large lights on woods and ways, And then he hastened to ETTABBE'S gate.
He found it open, and he did not wait to be announced, but hastened,
full of hope, To where her tent stood on the garden slope. He knew she
slept the roses all among, And as he softly stepped, he softly sung:
"I am coming, my own, my sweet!
Were it ever so airy a tread,
Thy heart would hear me and beat,
Were it earth in an earthly bed.
Thy dust would hear me and beat,
Hads't thou lain for a century dead,
Would start and tremble under my feet--
And just then he saw GAWAIN'S head! With one wild bound toward the
dark'ning skies, From out the garden gates he madly flies. But soon his
mind it alters. Slipping back, His tune he changes--trying this new
tack:"Howe'er it be, it seems to me
'Tis only noble to be good;
Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith, than Norman blood.
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