XXXI. I rapped, and heard a sweet “Come in,” Don Quixote-like, I set my shin, Resolved to dash through thick and thin Upon adventure: Three inches higher I raised my chin And thus I enter.
XXXII. We met, kind Venus! Oh! we met, And how could I that hour forget? Love’s glorious summer sun is set With aged Peter, But here its twilight lingers yet And warms his metre.
XXXIII. “Pardon me, Bird of Night,” said I, “I heard you sing while passing by, And such a voice as thine might vie With Orpheus’ lyre, Which charmed all things beneath the sky At his desire.
XXXIV. Its melody, as authors write, Stayed listening torrents in their flight, And shook the mountains with delight, While round him came Wild forest beasts (a wondrous sight!) Subdued and tame.”
XXXV. This precious gem of pagan lore, I picked up somewhere weeks before, And laid it up in secret store With shrewd design, To bring it forth in this amour And make it shine.
XXXVI. Her cheek, as fair as blow of peach, Grew crimson at this flattering speech; She placed a chair within my reach And said: “Be seated,— Where did you learn, bright youth, to preach Your brain is heated.”
XXXVII. This taunting stroke I ill could bear, And answered only with a stare, Then dropped like lead, into the chair, And down she sat, First having, with a courteous air, Bestowed my hat.
XXXVIII. Now snugly seated face to face, Between us just three boards, a space I might have crossed with half a pace, But modesty Made wide, as any gulf, that place ’Twixt bliss and me.
XXXIX. “That song,” said she “you heard me sing, Is nothing but a foolish thing; My folk, the whole live-gathering, Are gone to-night, And music seems to make Time’s wing Move swift and bright.”
XL. “Now or never, do or die, Here’s a lucky chance,” thought I, “No bar to love, no gazer nigh Our bliss to damp;” While kindness streamed from Jane’s bright eye As from a lamp.