Inched out his uttermost, for more effect.
CXXVIII
A bustling entrance: "Idol of my flame!
Can it be that my heart attains at last
Its longing? that you stand, the very same
As in my visions?... Ha! hey, how?" aghast
Stops short the rapture. "Oh, my boy's to blame!
You merely are the messenger! Too fast
My fancy rushed to a conclusion. Pooh!
Well, sir, the lady's substitute is—who?"