Rich grapes shall be eat by me.’
Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,
More grapes than I before did meet:
So beautiful and so ripe are they,
They are saying ‘come and eat.’
In the dead of the midnight hour
Went the Mordomo—went the king—
Of doblas to the portress giv’n,
’Tis not for me the account to sing.
—‘Mordomo! stay you at the portal,