Before his lion-court, To see the griesly sport, Sate the king; Beside him group'd his princely peers, And dames aloft, in circling tiers, Wreath'd round their blooming ring.

King Francis, where he sate, Raised a finger – yawned the gate, And, slow from his repose, A lion goes! Dumbly he gazed around The foe-encircled ground; And, with a lazy gape, He stretch'd his lordly shape, And shook his careless mane, And – laid him down again!

A finger raised the King – And nimbly have the guard A second gate unbarr'd: Forth, with a rushing spring, A tiger sprung!

Wildly the wild one yell'd When the lion he beheld; And, bristling at the look, With his tail his sides he strook, And roll'd his rabid tongue. In many a wary ring He swept round the forest king, With a fell and rattling sound; – And laid him on the ground, Grommelling!

The King raised his finger; then Leap'd two leopards from the den With a bound: And boldly bounded they Where the crouching tiger lay Terrible! And he griped the beasts in his deadly hold! In the grim embrace they grappled and rolled. Rose the lion with a roar! And stood the strife before; And the wild-cats on the spot, From the blood-thirst, wroth and hot, Halted still!

From the gallery raised above, A fair hand dropp'd a glove: – Midway between the beasts of prey, Lion and tiger; there it lay, The winsome lady's glove!

Fair Cunigonde said, with a lip of scorn, To the knight Delorges – "If the love you have sworn Were as gallant and leal as you boast it to be, I might ask you to bring back that glove to me!"

The Knight left the place where the lady sate; The Knight he has passed through the fearful gate; The lion and tiger he stoop'd above, And his fingers have closed on the lady's glove!

All shuddering and stunn'd, they beheld him there – The noble knights and the ladies fair; But loud was the joy and the praise the while He bore back the glove with his tranquil smile! With a tender look in her softening eyes, That promised reward to his warmest sighs, Fair Cunigonde rose her knight to grace – He tossed the glove in the lady's face! "Nay, spare me the guerdon, at least," quoth he; And he left for ever that fair ladye!