The young Medoro had the gathering
Of the world's rose, the rose untouch'd before;
For never, since that garden blush'd with spring,
Had human being dared to touch the door.
To sanction it—to consecrate the thing—
The priest was called to read the service o'er,
(For without marriage what can come but strife?)
And the bride-mother was the shepherd's wife.
All was perform'd, in short, that could be so
In such a place, to make the nuptials good;
Nor did the happy pair think fit to go,
But spent the month and more within the wood.
The lady to the stripling seemed to grow.
His step her step, his eyes her eyes pursued;
Nor did her love lose any of its zest,
Though she was always hanging on his breast.
In doors and out of doors, by night, by day,
She had the charmer by her side for ever;
Morning and evening they would stroll away,
Now by some field or little tufted river;
They chose a cave in middle of the day,
Perhaps not less agreeable or clever
Than Dido and Æneas found to screen them,
When they had secrets to discuss between them.
And all this while there was not a smooth tree,
That stood by stream or fountain with glad breath,
Nor stone less hard than stones are apt to be,
But they would find a knife to carve it with;
And in a thousand places you might see,
And on the walls about you and beneath,
ANGELICA AND MEDORO, tied in one,
As many ways as lovers' knots can run.
And when they thought they had outspent their time,
Angelica the royal took her way,
She and Medoro, to the Indian clime,
To crown him king of her great realm, Cathay.[1]
[Footnote 1: This version of the present episode has appeared in print before. So has a portion of the Monks and the Giants, in the first volume.]
* * * * *
No. III.