He kneel'd by his side, he stanch'd the tide

Of life blood flowing free;

With his scarf he bound each gaping wound, And he sooth'd their agony.

He lifted the Gordon on his steed,

Himself he held the rein:

"I hold thee," he said, "for a knight indeed, And I give thee thy life again."

There was bitter grief in the Gordon's eye;
Not for defeat that grief,

But he wept for his broken loyalty

To such a generous chief.

Humbly he bent his knightly head

With a changed and gentle brow:

"Oh, pardon! I yield, I yield!" he said; "I am truly conquer'd now!"

Behold how mercy softeneth still

The haughtiest heart that beats;

Pride with disdain may be answer'd again,
But pardon at once defeats.

The brave man felt forgiveness melt

A heart by fear unshaken;

He was ready to die for his loyalty

To the prince he had forsaken.

Prince Edward hath brought him to Guilford Tower

Ere that summer's day is o'er;

He hath led him in to the secret bower

Of his fair wife Alianore;

His mother, the lady of gay Provence,

And his sire, the king, were there.