THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS

King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the court; The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by their side, And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make his bride; And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below. Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws. With wallowing might and stifled roar, they rolled one on another, Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thunderous smother; The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air; Said Francis, then, "Good gentlemen, we're better here than there!" De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous, lively dame, With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the same: She thought, "The Count, my lover, is as brave as brave can be; He surely would do desperate things to show his love of me! King, ladies, lover, all look on; the chance is wond'rous fine; I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory will be mine!" She dropped her glove to prove his love: then looked on him and smiled; He bowed and in a moment leaped among the lions wild: The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon regained his place; Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face! "In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat: "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that!"