Then from Love’s banquet, rising, my beloved
Forth led me in the bond of her dear hand,
That we in his glad courts might understand
Fresh joyance; and thro’ all his realm we moved.
Adown the golden street my lady led,
Where pass’d us, to and fro, Love’s votaries—
The searchers of his book, within whose eyes
Was writ his name, whose chanting lips had said
His prayers and orisons within the shrines,
Dim-window’d, strange, and still with sacred air,