"For, since the Duke," she cried, "dare send to me
A sorry wight, a very Fool like thee,
By thy Fool's mouth I bid thee to him say,
He ne'er shall win me, woo he as he may;
Say that I know him not--"
"Yet," spake Duke Joc'lyn soft,
"E'er this, methinks, thou'st seen my lord full oft.
When at the joust thou wert fair Beauty's queen
Duke Joc'lyn by thy hand oft crowned hath been."
"True, Fool," she answered, 'twixt a smile and frown,
"I've seen him oft, but with his vizor down.
And verily he is a doughty knight,
But wherefore doth he hide his face from sight?"
"His face?" quoth Joc'lyn with a gloomy look,
"His face, alack!" And here his head he shook;
"His face, ah me!" And here Duke Joc'lyn sighed,
"His face--" "What of his face?" Yolanda cried.
"A mercy's name, speak--speak and do not fail."
"Lady," sighed Joc'lyn, "thereby hangs a tale,
The which, though strange it sound, is verity,
That here and now I will relate to thee--
'T is ditty dire of dismal doating dames,
A lay of love-lorn, loveless languishment,
And ardent, amorous, anxious anguishment,
Full-fed forsooth of fierce and fiery flames;
So hark,
And mark:
In Brocelaunde not long ago,
Was born Duke Jocelyn.
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