Here remain unchanged, unmoved now; 65 Call this pampered thing improved now! Suppose there's a king of the flowers And a girl-show held in his bowers-- "Look ye, buds, this growth of ours," Says he, "Zanze from the Brenta, 70 I have made her gorge polenta Till both cheeks are near as bouncing As her--name there's no pronouncing! See this heightened color too, For she swilled Breganze wine 75 Till her nose turned deep carmine; 'Twas but white when wild she grew. And only by this Zanze's eyes Of which we could not change the size, The magnitude of all achieved 80 Otherwise, may be perceived." Oh, what a drear, dark close to my poor day! How could that red sun drop in that black cloud? Ah, Pippa, morning's rule is moved away, Dispensed with, never more to be allowed! 85 Day's turn is over, now arrives the night's. O lark, be day's apostle To mavis, merle, and throstle, Bid them their betters jostle From day and its delights! 90 But at night, brother owlet; over the woods, Toll the world to thy chantry; Sing to the bats' sleek sisterhoods Full complines with gallantry: Then, owls and bats, 95 Cowls and twats, Monks and nuns, in a cloister's moods, Adjourn to the oak-stump pantry! [_After she has began to undress herself._ Now, one thing I should like to really know: How near I ever might approach all these 100 I only fancied being, this long day-- Approach, I mean, so as to touch them, so As to--in some way ... move them--if you please, Do good or evil to them some slight way. For instance, if I wind 105 Silk tomorrow, my silk may bind [_Sitting on the bedside._ And border Ottima's cloak's hem. Ah me, and my important part with them, This morning's hymn half promised when I rose! True in some sense or other, I suppose. 110 [_As she lies down._ God bless me! I can pray no more tonight. No doubt, some way or other, hymns say right. _All service ranks the same with God--_ _With God, whose puppets, best and worst,_ _Are we; there is no last nor first._ 115 [_She sleeps._ NOTES SONGS FROM PARACELSUS