For thy sweet priests to lean and pray upon, Jasper and hyacinth and chrysopras, And the strange Asian thalamite that was Hidden twelve ages under heavy sea Among the little sleepy pearls, to be A shrine lit over with soft candle-flame Burning all night red as hot brows of shame, So thou wilt be my lady without sin. Goddess that art all gold outside and in, Help me to serve thee in thy holy way. Thou knowest, Love, that in my bearing day There shone a laughter in the singing stars Round the gold-ceilèd bride-bed wherein Mars Touched thee and had thee in your kissing wise. Now therefore, sweet, kiss thou my maiden's eyes That they may open graciously towards me; And this new fashion of thy shrine shall be As soft with gold as thine own happy head. The goddess, that was painted with face red Between two long green tumbled sides of sea, Stooped her neck sideways, and spake pleasantly: Thou shalt have grace as thou art thrall of mine. And with this came a savour of shed wine And plucked-out petals from a rose's head: And softly with slow laughs of lip she said, Thou shalt have favour all thy days of me. Then came Theophilus to Dorothy, Saying: O sweet, if one should strive or speak Against God's ways, he gets a beaten cheek For all his wage and shame above all men. Therefore I have no will to turn again When God saith "go," lest a worse thing fall out. Then she, misdoubting lest he went about To catch her wits, made answer somewhat thus: I have no will, my lord Theophilus, To speak against this worthy word of yours; Knowing how God's will in all speech endures, That save by grace there may no thing be said, Then Theophile waxed light from foot to head, And softly fell upon this answering. It is well seen you are a chosen thing To do God service in his gracious way. I will that you make haste and holiday To go next year upon the Venus stair, Covered none else, but crowned upon your hair, And do the service that a maiden doth. She said: but I that am Christ's maid were loth To do this thing that hath such bitter name. Thereat his brows were beaten with sore shame And he came off and said no other word. Then his eyes chanced upon his banner-bird, And he fell fingering at the staff of it And laughed for wrath and stared between his feet, And out of a chafed heart he spake as thus: Lo how she japes at me Theophilus, Feigning herself a fool and hard to love; Yet in good time for all she boasteth of She shall be like a little beaten bird. And while his mouth was open in that word He came upon the house Janiculum, Where some went busily, and other some Talked in the gate called the gate glorious. The emperor, which was one Gabalus, Sat over all and drank chill wine alone. To whom is come Theophilus anon, And said as thus: _Beau sire, Dieu vous aide_. And afterward sat under him, and said