Yolenta she smiled, and Yolenta she frowned

Yolenta she smiled, and Yolenta she frowned, Then light rang her laugh with its silvery sound. “Rise, valiant De Rodon,” she mockingly cried, “And behold by what foemen your mettle’s been tried.” Then each sable spearsman his vizor unclasps, And six laughing girls with bright mischievous eyes, Poke their fun at De Rodon, who’s mute with surprise And disgust, while Yolenta her riding wand grasps, Sharply switches the recreant kneeling before her, And turns to depart,— When up with a start Springs De Rodon, and pallid with anger leans o’er her. Then hisses these words in her ear,—“Ere you smile Or rejoice in your stratagem, listen awhile, And learn that a herald discharging his duty Is sacred; despite of your wealth, rank, and beauty, For the stroke you have dealt me YOUR FAIR HAND IS FORFEIT; By the axe of the headsman, ere many days, off it Shall be hewn, and when next men to fury you goad on, Bear in mind the revenge of the herald De Rodon!”