But thou art welcome—it will well defend
Thee from the bitter tempest,” and he showed
The open pass. Beneath its arch they bend:
From mid the room the blazing fagots sent
The smoke and sparkles through the vault’s low vent,
LXXVII.
And, shining round, did for the ceiling show
The braided mat of many colors made,—
Veiled here and there, where, hanging in a row,