But give your master-craftsman’s wife, his wife so fair and gracious,
That cometh late toward eventide, that cometh late toward supper.”
The master-craftsman heard it well, and fell as one death-stricken;
A word anon he writes and bids the nightingale to carry:
“Tarry to don thy best array, tarry to come to supper,
Tarry to go upon thy way across the bridge of Arta.”
The nightingale heard not aright, and carried other message:
“Hurry to don thy best array, hurry to come to supper,
Hurry to go upon thy way across the bridge of Arta.”
Lo, there she came, now full in view, along the dust-white roadway;