"Of Time and what befel me I complain, * Mourning my loss by chess and eyes of bane. For love of gentlest, softest-sided fair * Whose like is not of maids or mortal strain: The shafts of glances from those eyne who shot * And led her conquering host to battle-plain Red men and white men and the clashing Knights * And, crying ‘ Look to thee!' came forth amain: And, when down charging, finger-tips she showed * That gloomed like blackest night for sable stain, The Whites I could not rescue, could not save * While ecstasy made tear, floods rail and rain: The Pawns and Castles with their Queens fell low * And fled the Whites nor could the brunt sustain: Yea, with her shaft of glance at me she shot * And soon that shaft had pierced my heart and brain: She gave me choice between her hosts, and I
