Yniol with that hard message went; it fell
Like flaws in summer laying lusty corn:
For Enid, all abash’d she knew not why, 765
Dared not to glance at her good mother’s face,
But silently, in all obedience,
Her mother silent too, nor helping her,
Laid from her limbs the costly-broider’d gift,
And robed them in her ancient suit again, 770
And so descended. Never man rejoiced
More than Geraint to greet her thus attired;