For, as the heat-foretelling grey-blue haze Veils the green flowery morn of late May-days, Her raiment veiled her; where the bands did meet That bound the sandals to her dainty feet, Gems gleamed; a fresh rose-wreath embraced her head, And on her breast there lay a ruby red. So with a supplicating look she turned To meet the flame that in his own eyes burned, And held out both her white arms lovingly, As though to greet him as he drew anigh. Stammering he said, "Who art thou? how am I So cured of all my evils suddenly, That certainly I felt no mightier, when, Amid the backward rush of beaten men, About me drooped the axe-torn Oriflamme? Alas! I fear that in some dream I am." "Ogier," she said, "draw near, perchance it is That such a name God gives unto our bliss; I know not, but if thou art such an one As I must deem, all days beneath the sun That thou hast had, shall be but dreams indeed To those that I have given thee at thy need. For many years ago beside the sea When thou wert born, I plighted troth with thee: Come near then, and make mirrors of mine eyes, That thou mayest see what these my mysteries Have wrought in thee; surely but thirty years, Passed amidst joy, thy new born body bears, Nor while thou art with me, and on this shore Art still full-fed of love, shalt thou seem more. Nay, love, come nigher, and let me take thine hand, The hope and fear of many a warring land, And I will show thee wherein lies the spell, Whereby this happy change upon thee fell."