What need I tell of lovely lips and eyes,

A perfect waist, and bosom's balmy rise?
There's not in all that crowd a gallant being,
Whom if his heart were whole, and rank agreeing,
It would not fire to twice of what he is,

To clasp her to his heart, and call her his.

While thus with tip-toe looks the people gaze, Another shout the neighb'ring quarters raise: The train are in the town, and gathering near, With noise of cavalry, and trumpets clear; A princely music, unbedinned with drums; The mighty brass seems opening as it comes; And now it fills, and now it shakes the air, And now it bursts into the sounding square; At which the crowd with such a shout rejoice, Each thinks he's deafen'd with his neighbor's voice. Then, with a long-drawn breath, the clangors die ; The palace trumpets give a last reply, And clattering hoofs succeed, with stately stir Of snortings proud and clinking furniture. It seems as if the harnessed war were near; But in their garb of peace the train appear, Their swords alone reserved, but idly hung, And the chains freed by which their shields were slung.

First come the trumpeters, clad all in white Except the breast, which wears a scutcheon bright.

By four and four they ride, on horses grey;
And as they sit along their easy way,
To the steed's motion yielding as they go,
Each plants his trumpet on his saddle-bow.

The heralds next appear, in vests attired
Of stiffening gold with radiant colors fired;
And then the pursuivants, who wait on these,
All dressed in painted richness to the knees:
Each rides a dappled horse, and bears a shield,
Charged with three heads upon a golden field.*

Twelve ranks of squires come after, twelve in one, With forked pennons lifted in the sun, Which tell, as they look backward in the wind, The bearings of the knights that ride behind. Their steeds are ruddy bay; and every squire His master's color shews in his attire.

These past, and at a lordly distance, come The knights themselves, and fill the quickening hum, The flower of Rimini. Apart they ride, Six in a row, and with a various pride; But all as fresh as fancy could desire, All shapes of gallantry on steeds of fire.

Differing in colors is the knights' array,
The horses, black and chesnut, roan and bay;

*The arms of the Malatesta family.

The horsemen, crimson vested, purple, and white,
All but the scarlet cloak for every knight,
Which thrown apart, and hanging loose behind,
Rests on the steed, and ruffles in the wind.
Instead of helm, in draperies they appear
Of folded cloth, depending by the ear:
And the steeds also make a mantled show;
The golden bits keep wrangling as they go:
With gold the bridles glance against the sun;
And the rich horse-cloths, ample every one,
Which, from the saddle-bow, dress half the steed,
Are some of them all thick with golden thread:
Others have spots, on grounds of different hue,
As burning stars upon a cloth of blue;
Or purple smearings, with a velvet light,
Rich from the glary yellow thickening bright;
Or a spring green, powdered with April posies;
Or flush vermilion, set with silver roses :
But all go sweeping back, and seem to dress
The forward march with loitering stateliness.

With various earnestness the crowd admire Horseman and horse, the motion and the attire. Some watch, as they go by, the riders' faces. Looking composure, and their knightly graces; The life, the carelessness, the sudden heed, The body curving to the rearing steed,

The patting hand, that best persuades the check, And makes the quarrel up with a proud neck,

The travell'd hues of some, the bloom of those, And scars, the keepsakes of admiring foes.

Others the horses and their pride explore, Their jauntiness behind and strength before; The flowing back, firm chest, and fetlocks clean, The branching veins ridging the glossy lean, The mane hung sleekly, the projecting eye That to the stander near looks awfully, The finished head, in its compactness free, Small, and o'erarching to the lifted knee, The start and snatch, as if they felt the comb, With mouths that fling about the creamy foam, The snorting turbulence, the nod, the champing, The shift, the tossing, and the fiery tramping.

And now the Princess, pale and with fixed eye,
Perceives the last of those precursors nigh,
Each rank uncovering, as they pass in state,
Both to the courtly fountain and the gate.
And then a second interval succeeds

Of stately length, and then a troop of steeds
Milkwhite and unattired, Arabian bred,
Each by a blooming boy lightsomely led :
In every limb is seen their faultless race;
But sprightly malice glances in the face;
They doubt their masters in a foreign place:
Slender their spotless shapes, and meet the sight
With freshness, after all those colors bright:

And as with easy pitch their steps they bear,
The very ease seems something to beware:
The yielding head has still a wilful air.
These for a princely present are divined,
And shew the giver is not far behind.

The talk increases now, and now advance,
Space after space, with many a sprightly prance,
The pages of the court, in rows of three;
Of white and crimson is their livery.
Space after space, and still the train appear,
A fervid whisper fills the general ear-

Ah-yes-
- no 'tis not he - but 'tis the squires
Who go before him when his pomp requires;
And now his huntsman shews the lessening train,
Now the squire-carver, and the chamberlain,-
And now his banner comes, and now his shield
Borne by the squire that waits him to the field,
And then an interval, · a lordly space;

A pin-drop silence strikes o'er all the place;
The princess, from a distance, scarcely knows
Which way to look; her color comes and goes,
And, with an impulse and affection free,
She lays her hand upon her father's knee,
Who looks upon her with a labored smile,
Gathering it up into his own the while,

When some one's voice, as if it knew not how

To check itself, exclaims, "The prince! now - now!"