And one whose faith has ever sacred been---" "And so has mine (she said)---I am a Queen: 705 Her answer she shall have, I undertake; And thus an end of all dispute I make. Try when you list; and you shall find, my Lord, We leave them here in this heroic strain, And to the Knight our story turns again; Who in the garden, with his lovely May, 710 Sung merrier than the cuckow or the jay: 715 Thus singing as he went, at last he drew, By easy steps to where the pear-tree grew; The longing dame look'd up, and spy'd her love 719 She stopp'd, and sighing; "Oh, good Gods! (she cry'd) What could, alas! a helpless husband do? 725 "And must I languish then, (she said) and die, 730 Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye? At least, kind Sir, for Charity's sweet sake, Then from your back I might ascend the tree; "With all my soul, (he thus reply'd again) 735 740 745 750 755 In that nice moment, lo! the wond'ring Knight Look'd out, and stood restor❜d to sudden sight. Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent, As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent; But when he saw his bosom wife so dress'd, His rage was such as cannot be express'd: Not frantic mothers when their infants dye, With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky: He cry'd, he roar'd, he storm'd, he tore his hair; "Death! hell! and furies! what dost thou do there?" "What ails my Lord? (the trembling dame reply'd) I thought your patience had been better try'd. Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind, This my reward for having cur'd the blind? Why was I taught to make my husband see, By struggling with a man upon a tree? 760 Did I for this the pow'r of magic prove? 'Tis struggling with a vengeance (quoth the Knight;) 771 "Guard me, good Angels! (cry'd the gentle May) Pray Heav'n this magic work the proper way! Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you see, You ne'er had us'd these killing words to me: So help me, Fates! as 'tis no perfect sight, But some faint glimm❜ring of a doubtful light." "What I have said (quoth he) I must maintain, For by the immortal Pow'rs it seem'd too plain---" 775 By all those Pow'rs, some frenzy seiz'd your (Reply'd the dame) are these the thanks I find, 780 The drops (for women, when they list, can cry). 785 The Knight was touch'd; and in his looks appear'd Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he cheer'd: "Madam, 'tis past, and my short anger o'er ! Come down, and vex your tender heart no more: 790 Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said, For, on my word, amends shall soon be made: Let my repentance your forgiveness draw; By Heav'n, I swore but what I thought I saw." 'Ah, my lov'd Lord! 'twas much unkind (she cry'd) On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride. 796 But till your sight's establish'd, for a while, 800 Thus, when from sleep we first our eyes display, sight. Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem; 805 Heav'n knows how seldom things are what they seem! "None judge so wrong as those who think amiss." 810 With that she leap'd into her lord's embrace, With well-dissembled virtue in her face. He hugg'd her close, and kiss'd her o'er and o'er, Thus ends our Tale, whose moral next to make, 2 816 820 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. |