As oaks they seemed, or as pines upsoaring in stately grace,
Which side by side all still mid the mountains rooted stand
When winds are hushed; but by breath of the breeze when at last they are fanned,
Stir they with multitudinous murmur and sigh—so they {970}
By love’s breath stirred were to pour out all in their hearts that lay.
Then Aison’s son beheld how the maiden’s soul was adread
With wilderment heaven-sent, and kindly-courteous he said:
‘Wherefore, O maiden, dost fear me so sorely, alone as I am?
Never was I as the loud-tongued blusterers, void of shame,
No, not when aforetime I dwelt in my fatherland oversea: