Page:Poems May.djvu/206

Holds back his moans in savage pride;
And Elf is panting on his side.
But Sylvia, wont to take her stand,
    Daily, by the castle board,
Feeding from her master's hand;
    Sylvia, that only loves her lord;
    That, heedless of another's word
Doeth gladly his behest,
Hath dragged herself across his breast,
And lies with limbs stretched out at rest.

Turning slowly his weary head,
"Sweet Guendolen!" the hunter said;
    "What, Sylvia, ho!" the panting hound
Only whimpered at the sound,
    Answering with dim upturned glance;
But she who slept a space beyond,
    Starting from her trance,
With light feet muffled by the sward
Drew nearer to her fainting lord.
Over his wounds and his weary brows
She laid wet leaves from the weeping boughs;