259
And onward—onward ever—up the hill,
And down the vale they pass—and sparks of fire
Thick as the dust, the rocky pathway fill:
The maiden here—and there in gay attire
The Swater—all—in low respect and duty,
Turning their eyes upon the affianc'd beauty,
As in the sunny beams, the enamour'd air
Play'd with the curls of her luxurious hair.
And thrice the dewy morn upon the ground
Hath scatter'd its fresh pearls, since first they took
Their way from out the palace portals—bound
To the fair maiden's cot, in its deep nook;
And now the prince hath bid his nobles meet him,
In full assemblage—they are there—they greet him
With loud rejoicings as he treads the hall,
And thus he makes his purpose known to all.
"Nobles! not noble only from high blood,
But from high virtues—ye have urg'd me long
To cheer the hours of princely solitude,
And choose a bride—nor was your counsel wrong:
