Sans merci

I met a lady in the meads

Full beautiful, a fairy's child;

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long;

For sideways would she lean, and sing

A fairy's song.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She look'd at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna dew;

And sure in language strange she said,

I love thee true.

from “La Belle Dame sans Merci”

by John Keats

(hopefully not laying “alone and palely loitering”, as the knight eventually did)