And truly ’twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,—

Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;

They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws;

With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another,

Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother;

The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air.

Said Francis then, “Faith, gentlemen, we’re better here than there.”

De Lorge’s love o’erheard the king,—a beauteous, lively dame,

With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the same;

She thought, “The count, my lover, is brave as brave can be,

He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me.

King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine;

I’ll drop my glove to prove his love. Great glory will be mine!”

She dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked on him and smiled;

He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild.

The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place;

Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady’s face.

“By Heaven!” said Francis, “rightly done!” rising from where he sat.

“No love,” quoth he, “but vanity, sets love a task like that.”

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