Chapter II

Do I idly dream, as the village maid, Who thinks, as she spins, of a princekin gay On a prancing steed, who shall come her way To woo her and win her and bear her away Thro' the vasty depths of the forest shade To a palace set in a sylvan glade,-- To love her for aye and a day?

Is it like that he with his princely pride-- The son of a proud old race, Shall stoop with Cophetua's kingly grace To lift me up to the vacant place, To reign like a queen at his side? Can the world afford him no worthier bride-- No bride with a queenlier grace?

Aye, a foolish dream for a sordid day When men seek power--and women, gold-- Gone is the chivalrous age of old When maids were loving and men were bold, And good King Arthur held knightly sway! Ah, love and knighthood were laid away With the cuirass and helm of old.

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But a horseman rides to the wicket gate-- All my pulses proclaim it he, My knight who has parted the waves of the sea, Who has cleft the wide world in his searching for me.... Fond, foolish, dreaming!--for surely Fate Decrees him the winning a worthier mate Than a simple girl like me!