The Peer sought the cot for the sake of its Maiden:
The Maid for his castle the Noble revered;

She smiled when she gazed on the star at his bosom,
But sighed when she glanced at his brow and his beard.

He spoke of his wounds from a little blind Archer;

And vowed that unpitied he could not survive :

The gentle Nymph thought, while she tenderly listened,
She cared not how soon he was buried alive.

'O, remember that fruit is maturest in autumn,

And that time mellows wine,' said the eloquent Sage:

But when winter, thought she, sheds its snow on the temples,

Old wine, not young love, is the cordial of age.

Those towers and their master,' said he, I surrender

To Beauty's dominion, her smile my reward.'

But the Nymph, who was humble, would fain have consented

To take the old castle without the old Lord.

Yet o'ercome by his ardour, at last she accepted

The conjugal ring and the sceptre of rule;

And to hide the white hairs of her blooming Adorer

She graced his wise head with the Cap of a Fool.