On the single condition—I give you fair warning—
That you ride through the City, at noon, in the dress
That you wear in your bath of a morning!”
“Very well!” she replied. “Be it so! Though you drive a
Hard bargain, my lord,” said the Lady Godiva.
So she slipped off her gown, and her shoulders lay bare,
Gleaming white like the moon on Aonian fountains;
When about them she loosened her curtain of hair,
’Twas like Night coming over the mountains!
And she blushed, ’neath the veil of her wonderful tresses,