Classic Poem

Close by the Soldan's side a warriour fought,
White was his courser as the fleecy snow;
His radiant arms with silver were enwrought,
Which like the wave of Neptune seem'd to flow,
When west winds gently on his surface blow.
Upon his crest rich plumes of scarlet shine,
And in his shield pourtrayed is the bow,
That gorgeous bow, which decks yon azure skyne,
Brighter than Juno's bird bestarr'd with Argus' eyne.