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Sir Palomides' Lament

ISOUD, Isoud, of the brows alight,
   The small, proud head and darkling eyes agleam,
Though Tristram wear your favour in men's sight,
   I flaunt your guerdon down the lists of dream.

Where other knights win love, I win but fame.
   Knaves on spent chargers gain their hearts' desire,
While I—though all the hearlds cry my name!—
   Break my lost heart to ease my spirit's fire.

What do I know of kisses, who embrace
   A poet's vision for my valour's prize—
A madman's dream of pity on your face;
   A fool's hope of surrender in your eyes.

Isoud, Isoud, of the brows alight,
   The darkling glance and pearly throat agleam,
Though Tristram flaunt your guerdon in men's sight,
   I wear your favours in the lists of dream.