Her girdle was pure silk, the bosom bright With purple as purple water and gold wrought in. One branch had touched with dusk her lips and chin, Made violet of the throat, abashed with shade The breast's bright plaited work: but nothing frayed The sun's large kiss on the luxurious hair. Her beauty was new colour to the air And music to the silent many birds. Love was an-hungred for some perfect words To praise her with; but only her low name "Andrevuola" came thrice, and thrice put shame In her clear cheek, so fruitful with new red That for pure love straightway shame's self was dead. Then with lids gathered as who late had wept She began saying: "I have so little slept My lids drowse now against the very sun; Yea, the brain aching with a dream begun Beats like a fitful blood; kiss but both brows, And you shall pluck my thoughts grown dangerous Almost away." He said thus, kissing them: "O sole sweet thing that God is glad to name, My one gold gift, if dreams be sharp and sore Shall not the waking time increase much more With taste and sound, sweet eyesight or sweet scent? Has any heat too hard and insolent Burnt bare the tender married leaves, undone The maiden grass shut under from the sun? Where in this world is room enough for pain?" The feverish finger of love had touched again Her lips with happier blood; the pain lay meek In her fair face, nor altered lip nor cheek With pallor or with pulse; but in her mouth Love thirsted as a man wayfaring doth, Making it humble as weak hunger is. She lay close to him, bade do this and this, Say that, sing thus: then almost weeping-ripe Crouched, then laughed low. As one that fain would wipe The old record out of old things done and dead, She rose, she heaved her hands up, and waxed red For wilful heart and blameless fear of blame; Saying "Though my wits be weak, this is no shame For a poor maid whom love so punisheth With heats of hesitation and stopped breath That with my dreams I live yet heavily For pure sad heart and faith's humility. Now be not wroth and I will show you this. "Methought our lips upon their second kiss Met in this place, and a fair day we had And fair soft leaves that waxed and were not sad With shaken rain or bitten through with drouth; When I, beholding ever how your mouth Waited for mine, the throat being fallen back, Saw crawl thereout a live thing flaked with black Specks of brute slime and leper-coloured scale, A devil's hide with foul flame-writhen grail Fashioned where hell's heat festers loathsomest; And that brief speech may ease me of the rest, Thus were you slain and eaten of the thing. My waked eyes felt the new day shuddering On their low lids, felt the whole east so beat, Pant with close pulse of such a plague-struck heat, As if the palpitating dawn drew breath For horror, breathing between life and death,