LOVERS RECONCILED

  Soon as in rage Celinda had closed her lattice fast
  And scorned the Moor ungrateful for his service in the past,
  Her passion with reflection turns and in repentance ends;
  She longs to see the Moor again and make to him amends;
  For in the dance of woman’s love through every mood they range
  And those whose hearts are truest are given most to change. 
  And when she saw the gallant knight before the people all
  Shiver his lance to splinters against her palace wall,
  And when she saw his cloak of green was changed to mourning gray,
  She straightway took her mantle with silver buttons gay,
  She took her hood of purple pleached with the gold brocade,
  Whose fringes and whose borders were all in pearls arrayed,
  She brought a cap with sapphires and emeralds bespread;
  The green was badge of hope, the blue of jealous rancor dead. 
  With waving plumes of green and white she decked a snowy hood,
  And armed with double heads of steel a lance of orange-wood—­
  For colors of the outer man denote the inner mood. 
  A border too of brilliant green around a target set,
  The motto this, “Tis folly a true lover to forget.” 
  And first she learned where bold Gazul was entertained that day,
  And they told her how his coming had put off the tilters’ play,
  And at her pleasure-house she bade him meet her face to face;
  And they told him how Celinda longed for his loved embrace,
  And thrice he asked the messenger if all were not a jest,
  For oft ’tis dangerous to believe the news we love the best,
  For lovers’ hopes are often thorns of rancor and unrest. 
  They told him that the words were true; and without further speech
  The glory of his lady’s eyes he sallied forth to reach. 
  He met her in a garden where sweet marjoram combined
  With azure violets a scent that ravished every wind. 
  The musk and jasmine mingled in leaf and branch and flower,
  Building about the lovers a cool and scented bower. 
  The white leaf matched her lily skin, the red his bounding heart. 
  For she was beauty’s spotless queen, he valor’s counterpart. 
  For when the Moor approached her he scarcely raised his eye,
  Dazed by the expectation that she had raised so high. 
  Celinda with a trembling blush came forth and grasped his hand;
  They talked of love like travellers lost in a foreign land. 
  Then said the Moor, “Why give me now love’s sweetest paths to trace,
  Who in thy absence only live on memories of thy face? 
  If thou should speak of Xerez,” he said with kindling eye,
  “Now take my lance, like Zaida’s spouse this moment let me die,
  And may I some day find thee in a rival’s arms at rest,
  And he by all thy arts of love be tenderly caressed;
  Unless the Moor whose slander made me odious in thy eyes