But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore, Than in her life she ever felt before. In that nice moment, lo! the wond'ring knight Looked out, and stood restored to sudden sight. Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent, 750 As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent; But when he saw his bosom-wife so dressed, His rage was such as cannot be expressed: Not frantic mothers when their infants die, With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky: 755 He cried, he roared, he stormed, he tore his hair; Death! hell! and furies! what dost thou do there! What ails my lord? the trembling dame replied; I thought your patience had been better tried; Is this your love, ungrateful, and unkind, 760 This my reward for having cured the blind? Why was I taught to make my husband see, By struggling with a man upon a tree? Did I for this the pow'r of magic prove? Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love! 765 If this be struggling, by this holy light, 'Tis struggling with a vengeance, quoth the knight; So heav'n preserve the sight it has restored, As with these eyes I plainly saw thee whored; Whored by my slave--perfidious wretch! may hell 770 As surely seize thee, as I saw too well. Guard me, good angels! cried the gentle May, Pray heav'n this magic work the proper way! Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you see, You ne'er had used these killing words to me: 775 So help me, fates, as 'tis no perfect sight, But some faint glimm'ring of a doubtful light. What I have said, quoth he, I must maintain, For by th' immortal pow'rs it seemed too plain. By all those pow'rs, some frenzy seized your mind, } 780 Replied the dame, are these the thanks I find? } Wretch that I am, that e'er I was so kind! } She said; a rising sigh expressed her woe, The ready tears apace began to flow, And as they fell she wiped from either eye 785 The drops; for women, when they list, can cry. The knight was touched; and in his looks appeared Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he cheered: Madam, 'tis past, and my short anger o'er! Come down, and vex your tender heart no more; 790 Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said, For, on my soul, amends shall soon be made: Let my repentance your forgiveness draw, By heav'n, I swore but what I thought I saw. Ah, my loved lord! 'twas much unkind, she cried, 795 On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride. But till your sight's established, for awhile, Imperfect objects may your sense beguile. Thus when from sleep we first our eyes display, }