Even Griselda's prudery confessed

A star of Bethlehem risen in her East.

And thus the winter passed in happiness

If not in love. I leave to each to guess

What name 'twere best to give it, for to some

Who judge such things by simple rule of thumb,

'Twill seem impossible they thus should meet

Day after day in palace, temple, street,

Beneath the sun of heaven or in the shade

Of those old gardens by the cypress made,

Or on their horses drinking in the wind

Of the Campagna, and with care behind,

Left to take vengeance upon poor Lord L.,

Some furlongs back a solemn sentinel,

Or in the twilight slowly stealing home

Towards the hundred cupolas of Rome,

43

To greet the new-born moon and so repeat

Old Tuscan ditties, tender, wise, and sweet,

To the light clatter of their horse-hoof's chime

 Prev. P 38/124 next