And glancing all at once as keenly at her
As careful robins eye the delver’s toil,
Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall, 775
But rested with her sweet face satisfied;
Then seeing cloud upon the mother’s brow,
Her by both hands he caught, and sweetly said:
“O my new mother, be not wroth or grieved
At your new son, for my petition to her. 780
When late I left Caerleon, our great Queen,
In words whose echo lasts, they were so sweet,