Song. Poem by Eliza Acton

Thou shalt know my love by his eagle-eye,
And his lofty brow,
Where in richness the dark curls clust'ring lie
On the forehead's snow!
Look where the brave, and the beautiful meet;
Search where the proud sons of chivalry greet;
Glance o'er the guests of the feudal hall,
Where princes are holding their festival;
And turn to the field, where the battle-word,
Is follow'd by death from the flashing sword.
Brightest, mid all that is lordly, and gay;
Dauntless, and first, in the deadliest fray;
Graceful, and gifted, all others above,
Such shalt thou find him-my own gallant love!