[Footnote 5:  Mixen is an old word for dunghill]

    “See here, my child, how fresh the colors look,
  How fast they hold like colors of a shell
  That keeps the wear and polish of the wave. 
  Why not?  It never yet was worn, I trow: 
  Look on it, child, and tell me if ye know it.”

    And Enid look’d, but all confused at first,
  Could scarce divide it from her foolish dream: 
  Then suddenly she knew it and rejoiced,
  And answer’d, “Yea, I know it; your good gift,
  So sadly lost on that unhappy night;
  Your own good gift!” “Yea, surely,” said the dame,
  “And gladly given again this happy morn. 
  For when the jousts were ended yesterday,
  Went Yniol thro’ the town, and everywhere
  He found the sack and plunder of our house
  All scatter’d thro’ the houses of the town;
  And gave command that all which once was ours
  Should now be ours again; and yester-eve,
  While ye were talking sweetly with your Prince,
  Came one with this and laid it in my hand,
  For love or fear, or seeking favor of us,
  Because we have our earldom back again. 
  And yester-eve I would not tell you of it,
  But kept it for a sweet surprise at morn. 
  Yea, truly is it not a sweet surprise? 
  For I myself unwillingly have worn
  My faded suit, as you, my child, have yours,
  And howsoever patient, Yniol his. 
  Ah, dear, he took me from a goodly house,
  With store of rich apparel, sumptuous fare,
  And page, and maid, and squire, and seneschal,
  And pastime both of hawk and hound, and all
  That appertains to noble maintenance. 
  Yea, and he brought me to a goodly house;
  But since our fortune swerved from sun to shade,
  And all thro’ that young traitor, cruel need
  Constrain’d us, but a better time has come;
  So clothe yourself in this, that better fits
  Our mended fortunes and a Prince’s bride: 
  For tho’ ye won the prize of fairest fair,
  And tho’ I heard him call you fairest fair,
  Let never maiden think, however fair,
  She is not fairer in new clothes than old. 
  And should some great court-lady say, the Prince
  Hath pick’d a ragged-robin from the hedge,
  And like a madman brought her to the court,
  Then were ye shamed, and, worse, might shame the Prince
  To whom we are beholden; but I know,
  When my dear child is set forth at her best,
  That neither court nor country, tho’ they sought
  Thro’ all the provinces like those of old
  That lighted on Queen Esther, has her match.”

  Here ceased the kindly mother out of breath;
  And Enid listen’d brightening as she lay;
  Then, as the white and glittering star of morn
  Parts from a bank of snow, and by and by
  Slips into golden cloud, the maiden rose,
  And left her maiden couch, and robed herself,
  Help’d by the mother’s careful hand and eye,
  Without a mirror, in the gorgeous gown;
  Who, after, turn’d her daughter round, and said,
  She never yet had seen her half so fair. * * *