Jasmine and briony the lattice climbed, The rose and honeysuckle trailed above; ’Twas such an hour as poets oft have rhymed, And such a chamber as all lovers love. He found her there, and at her footstool knelt. Each in the other’s fancies had so dwelt, That, as one sees for days a sweet strange face, Until at night in dreams he does caress Its owner, and next morning in some place Meets her, and wonders if she too can guess How near and known he thinks her,—in this wise They read one story in each other’s eyes. Her thick hair falling from its lilies hid Their first long kiss of passion and content. He heard her soft, glad murmur, as she slid Within his hold, and ’gainst his bosom leant, Whispering: “At last! at last! the years were sore.” “Their spite,” he said, “shall do us wrong no more!” What else, when mingled longings swell full-tide, And the heart’s surges leap their bounds for aye, And fell the landmarks? What but fate defied, Time clutched, and any future held at bay? They recked not of the thorn, but seized the flower; For all the sin, their joy was great that hour. And since, for all the joy, theirs was a sin That baned them with one bane; since many men Had sought her love, but one alone could win That largess, with his blameless life till then Inviolate,—they bargained for love’s sake No severance of their covert league to make. Yet, since nobility compelled them still, They pledged themselves for honor’s sake to hold This hidden unto death; at either’s will To meet and part in secret; to infold In their own hearts their trespass and delight, Nor look their love, but guard it day or night. * * * * * So fell the blameless Prince. That day more late Than wont he reached the presence of the Queen, Deep in a palace chamber, where she sate Fondling his child. The sunset lit her mien, And made a saintly glory in her hair; An awe came on him as he saw her there. And, because perfect love suspecteth not, She found no blot upon his brow. ’Twas good To take a pleasure in her wedded lot, And watch the infant creeping where he stood; And, as he bent his head, she little wist What kisses burned upon the lips she kissed. And he, still kind and wise in his decline, Seeing her trustful calm, had little heart To shake it. So his conduct gave no sign Of broken faith; no slurring of his part Betrayed him to the courtiers or the wife. Perhaps a second spring-time in his life Waxed green, and fresh-bloomed love renewed again The joys that light our youth and leave our prime, And women found him tenderer, and men A blither, heartier comrade; but, meantime, What hidden gladness made his visage bright They could not guess; nor with what craft and sleight