King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport;
  And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court:
  The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by their side,
  And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed;
  And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show -
  Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

  Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;
  They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams - a wind went with their paws:
  With wallowing might and stifled roar, they rolled on one another,
  Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thunderous smother;
  The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air;
  Said Francis then, "Faith! Gentlemen, we're better here than there!"

  De Lorge's love o'erheard the King,--a beauteous lively dame,
  With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seem'd the same:
  She thought, "The Count my lover is brave as brave can be -
  He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me:
  Kings, ladies, lovers, all looked on; the occasion is divine"
  I'll drop my glove, to prove his love: great glory will be mine!"

  She dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled;
  He bowed, and in a moment leapt among the lions wild.
  The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regain'd his place,
  Then threw the glove - but not with love - right in the lady's face!
  "in truth," cried Francis, "rightly done!" and rose from where he sat.
  "no love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that!"