3510'Well,' quoth Bellama, 'will you me discard,
When for your sake I've run through all disasters?
Must slights and nescios now be my reward?
Will you make ulcers, and apply no plasters?
Clothed in this coarse array, I roved abroad
To find the place of thy secure abode.'
'Sweet,' says Albino, 'let not anger dress
Thy stainless lilies in distraction's dye.
Let ignorance plead pardon, for I guess
Some other beauties may "Albino" cry.