DIALOGUE.
29
BARD.
By the Virgin, tell me true,
On what errand?
SHADOW.
On what errand? To pursue!
Thus all nakedly to glide,
Lovely poet! by thy side,
Is my task—my heart’s desire—
I have feet that never tire;
And am bound by secret spell,
All thy wanderings to tell;
To espy each wile and art,
Fairest jewel of my heart!
BARD.
Vagrant, without home and shelter,
Man of limbs all helter skelter!
Crooked, lank-shanked, luckless shade—
Shape of rainbow, hue of mire,
Art thou then a bailiff paid,
By the wolf-tongued Eithig’s hire,
Into all my paths to pry?
Skulking mercenary spy!
SHADOW.
That, Sir Minstrel, I deny!
BARD.
Whence then art thou, giant’s child?
Shape of darkness, huge and wild;
