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The Spike: or, Victoria College Review, October 1913

"Loved I Not Honour More."

"Loved I Not Honour More."

In Charles's days they sang their songs
As light as love's caress;
They drew their swords to right the wrongs
Of ladies in distress.
For king or mistress spurred their mounts
Towards a soldier's grave,
And in the Muses' mystic founts
Knew how to lave.

Their sport lay ever in the chase,
No matter what the prey;
As often 'twas a pretty face
As hart, they brought to bay.
The wine flowed free, and in their cups
They took what life could give,
And recking neither downs nor ups,
Knew how to live.

By many a lonely maiden's tears,
That fell like dew o'er night,
The memory of those cavaliers
Was kept and burnished bright;
For though they loved their honour all
Fair mistresses above,
The men who heard the trumpets call
Knew how to love.

Their day is done, they now are shades,
Their swords are red with rust;
With those who trod the great crusades
They mingle in the dust.
They fought with men, they laughed at death.
They asked for no reprieve,
But, merry jest on parting breath,
Knew how to leave.