That fitted maid for wife, and in her nursed
The woman's heart—not years nor outward growth.
“Walk with the holy women praised of old
Who served their God and sons heroic bore:—”
Thus sang the minstrels, touching harps of gold
While maidens wreathed with flowers the bridal door.
IX.
“Holy was love at first, all true, all fair,
Virtue's bright crown, and Honor's mystic feast,
Purer than snows, more sweet than morning air,