Sat a hundred dames above,
All the tourney's strife beholding;
These were only humble leaves
Gathered round my queen, the rosebud.
As the eagle views the sun,
Gazed I on her features boldly;
Burning through my visor's plate
Seemed mine eyes, with ardour glowing!
How my quickly-beating heart
Well nigh had my breast-plate broken!
Looks in her that softly shone
Seemed with lightning-flames to clothe me;
Tones from her that gently came,
Turned in me to thunder's rolling!
She , a balmy morn in May,
Seemed, in me , a storm explosive.
Forth I burst, by naught restrained,
Thundering through my conquered foemen!