Ii

The basest Cavalier who e'er wore spurs Or drew a sword, I count him; with his grave Eyes 'neath his plumed hat like a wolf's whom curs Rouse, to their harm, within a forest cave; And hair like harvest; and a voice like verse For smoothness. Ay, a handsome man and--brave!-- Brave?--who would question it! yea! tho' 'tis true He warred with one weak woman and her few.