When Guillardun's blithe messenger appear'd, And all her bourgeoning heart blossom'd anew, Madly thro' every vein his blood career'd— What need of eloquence, Love's words are few! Her girdle soon his glittering mail ensphered, And where it clung it did with fire endue. The circlet bright of her unaltering faith From his third finger glimmers all too rath! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |