How Lisa loved the king

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ix hundred years ago, in Dante’s time,

Before his cheek was furrowed by deep rhyme;

When Europe, fed afresh from Eastern story,

Was like a garden tangled with the glory

Of flowers hand-planted and of flowers air-sown,

Climbing and trailing, budding and full-blown,

Where purple bells are tossed amid pink stars,

And springing blades, green troops in innocent wars,

Crowd every shady spot of teeming earth,

Making invisible motion visible birth,—

Six hundred years ago, Palermo town

Kept holiday.  A deed of great renown,

A high revenge, had freed it from the yoke

Of hated Frenchmen; and from Calpe’s rock

To where the Bosporus caught the earlier sun,

’Twas told that Pedro, King of Aragon,

Was welcomed master of all Sicily,—

A royal knight, supreme as kings should be

In strength and gentleness that make high chivalry.

when Palermo made high festival,

The joy of matrons and of maidens all

Was the mock terror of the tournament,

Where safety, with the glimpse of danger blent,

Took exaltation as from epic song,

Which greatly tells the pains that to great life belong.