His sweet companion, buckling for the deed,
Encourag’d him t’advance: her love obey’d:
Fair Bapta,[253] charitably, drew her veil,
And bade the loving warriors doff their mail,—
’Twas done!—they waver’d, for the shock was great,
The conflict ceas’d. Concordia,[254] reign’d in state.
* * * * *
And when another summer-time had flown,
(For God had bless’d the mould wherein ’twas sown,)
The gladsome father, named his own, his own....