But he, when all the place he had gone o'er, And with much trouble clomb the broken stair, And from the topmost turret seen the shore And his good ship drawn up at anchor there, Came down again, and found a crypt most fair Built wonderfully beneath the greatest hall, And there he saw a door within the wall, 98

Well-hinged, close shut; nor was there in that place

Another on its hinges, therefore he

Stood there and pondered for a little space, And thought, "Perchance some marvel I shall see,

For surely here some dweller there must be, Because this door seems whole, and new, and sound,

While nought but ruin I can see around." 105

So with that word, moved by a strong desire,

He tried the hasp, that yielded to his hand,
And in a strange place, lit as by a fire
Unseen but near, he presently did stand;
And by an odorous breeze his face was fanned,
As though in some Arabian plain he stood,
Anigh the border of a spice-tree wood.

112

"Lady," he said, "in Florence is my home, And in my city noble is my name; Neither on peddling voyage am I come, But, like my fathers, bent to gather fame; And though thy face has set my heart a-flame Yet of thy story nothing do I know, But here have wandered heedlessly enow.

"But since the sight of thee mine eyes did bless,

239 What can I be but thine? what wouldst thou have?

From those thy words, I deem from some distress

By deeds of mine thy dear life I might save;
O then, delay not! if one ever gave
His life to any, mine I give to thee;
Come, tell me what the price of love must be?

She said, "What brave words! nought divine am I,

But an unhappy and unheard-of maid
Compelled by evil fate and destiny

To live, who long ago should have been laid
Under the earth within the cypress shade.
Hearken awhile, and quickly shalt thou know
What deed I pray thee to accomplish now.

"God grant indeed thy words are not for nought!

260

Then shalt thou save me, since for many a day
To such a dreadful life I have been brought :
Nor will I spare with all my heart to pay
What man soever takes my grief away;
Ah! I will love thee, if thou lovest me
But well enough my saviour now to be. 266

"My father lived a many years agone Lord of this land, master of all cunning, Who ruddy gold could draw from out grey stone,

And gather wealth from many an uncouth thing;

He made the wilderness rejoice and sing,
And such a leech he was that none could say
Without his word what soul should pass away.

274

"Unto Diana such a gift he gave, Goddess above, below, and on the earth, That I should be her virgin and her slave From the first hour of my most wretched birth;

Therefore my life had known but little mirth When I had come unto my twentieth year And the last time of hallowing drew anear. 280

"So in her temple had I lived and died And all would long ago have passed away, But ere that time came, did strange things betide,

Whereby I am alive unto this day;
Alas, the bitter words that I must say !
Ah! can I bring my wretched tongue to tell
How I was brought unto this fearful hell? 287

"A queen I was, what gods I knew I loved, And nothing evil was there in my thought, And yet by love my wretched heart was moved Until to utter ruin I was brought !

Alas! thou sayest our gods were vain and nought;

Wait, wait, till thou hast heard this tale of mine, 293 Then shalt thou think them devilish or divine.

"Then suddenly was quenched my hot desire

And he untwined his arms; the moon so pale A while ago, seemed changed to blood and fire, And yet my limbs beneath me did not fail, And neither had I strength to cry or wail, But stood there helpless, bare, and shivering, With staring eyes still fixed upon the thing. 329

"Because the shade that on the bed of gold The changed and dreadful moon was throwing down

Was of Diana, whom I did behold,

With knotted hair, and shining girt-up gown, And on the high white brow, a deadly frown Bent upon us, who stood scarce drawing breath,

Striving to meet the horrible sure death. 336

1 unless