High deeds achieved of knightly fame, <br />From Palestine the champion came; <br />The cross upon his shoulders borne, <br />Battle and blast had dimm'd and torn. <br />Each dint upon his batter'd shield <br />Was token of a foughten field; <br />And thus, beneath his lady's bower, <br />He sung as fell the twilight hour:- <br /> <br />'Joy to the fair! - thy knight behold, <br />Return'd from yonder land of gold; <br />No wealth he brings, nor wealth can need, <br />Save his good arms and battle-steed <br />His spurs, to dash against a foe, <br />His lance and sword to lay him low; <br />Such all the trophies of his toil, <br />Such - and the hope of Tekla's smile! <br /> <br />'Joy to the fair! whose constant knight <br />Her favour fired to feats of might; <br />Unnoted shall she not remain, <br />Where meet the bright and noble train; <br />Minstrel shall sing and herald tell - <br />'Mark yonder maid of beauty well, <br />'Tis she for whose bright eyes were won <br />The listed field at Askalon! <br /> <br />''Note well her smile! - it edged the blade <br />Which fifty wives to widows made, <br />When, vain his strength and Mahound's spell, <br />Iconium's turban'd Soldan fell. <br />Seest thou her locks, whose sunny glow <br />Half shows, half shades, her neck of snow? <br />Twines not of them one golden thread, <br />But for its sake a Paynim bled.' <br /> <br />'Joy to the fair! - my name unknown, <br />Each deed, and all its praise thine own <br />Then, oh! unbar this churlish gate, <br />The night dew falls, the hour is late. <br />Inured to Syria's glowing breath, <br />I feel the north breeze chill as death; <br />Let grateful love quell maiden shame, <br />And grant him bliss who brings thee fame.'<br /><br />Sir Walter Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-crusader-s-return/
