Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/288

274 When thy mistress wakes, Array her richly, that she be prepared To come before the Prince.

Sir, she hath risen, And only waits me with your lordship’s leave, To cross the street unto St. Francis church.

With such slight escort ? Nay, this troubles me. Only the Strada s width ? The saints forbid That I should thwart her holy exercise ! Myself will go. I cannot. Bid her muffle, Like our Valencian ladies, her silk mantle About her face and head.

Yes, God will bless her. What should I fear? I will make sure her beauty Is duly masked. [-He does toward the casement. Ay, there she goes the mantle, Draped round the stately head, discloses naught Save the live jewel of the eye. Unless one guessed From the majestic grace and proud proportions, She might so pass through the high thorough fares. Ah, one thick curl escapes from its black prison.