when many a woman's tent is pitched in the place of scorn.
No gossip to bring him shame from her does her husband dread--
when mention is made of women, pure and unstained is she.
The day done, at eve glad comes he home to his eyes' delight:
he needs not to ask of her, "Say, where didst thou pass the day?"--
And slender is she where meet, and full where it so beseems,
and tall and straight, a fairy shape, if such on earth there be.
And nightlong as we sat there, methought that the tent was roofed
above with basil-sprays, all fragrant in dewy eve--
Sweet basil, from Halyah dale, its branches abloom and fresh,