ir that fell, a shower of gold,
Around her figure's snowy line
And rosy mould:

He (with a re-awakened sense
Of goodness, long for ever lost,
And angel beauty's pure defence)
Shrank back, unable to accost
Such innocence:

But envy soon scoffed down his shame;
And with a smile, designed for fawning,
But like hell's daybreak sickly dawning,
His crafty accents came.

XI

"Sweet ignorance, 'tis sad and hard
To break thy fond confiding spell;
And my soft heart hath such regard
For thine, that I will never tell
What may be spared."

He turned aside, o'erwhelmed with pain,
And drew a sigh of deep compassion:
She trembled, flushed, and gazed again,
And prayed him quick, in woman's fashion,
To speak it plain:

"Then, if thou must be taught to grieve,
And scorn the guile thou hast adored--
The man who calls himself thy lord,
Where goes he, every eve?"

XII

"Nay, then," she cried, "if that be all,
I care not what thou hast to say;
The guile that lurks therein is small--
My husband but retires to pray,
At evening call."

"To pray? Oh yes, and on his knees
May-hap to find a lovely being:
Devotions so devout as these
Are best at night, with no one seeing,
Among the trees."

She blushed as deep as modesty,
Then glancing back as bright as cride,
"What woman can he find,' she cried,
"In all the world, but me?"

XIII

He laughed with a superior sneer,
Enough to shake e'en woman's faith;
"Wilt thou believe me, simple dear,
If I am able now," he saith,
"To show her here?"

She cried aloud with gladsome heart,
"Be that the test whereon to try thee;
Nature and heaven shall take my part:
Come, show this rival; I defy thee
And all thy art."

A mirror, held in readiness,
He set upright before her feet--
"Now can thy simple charms compete
With beauty such as this?"

XIV

A lovelier sight therein she saw
Than ever yet had charmed her eyes,
A fairer picture, void of flaw,
Than any, even Paradise
Itself, could draw;

A woman's form of perfect grace,
In shadowy softness delic