XXXVIII.

"My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride! Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest? Thy beauty's shield, heart-shap'd and vermeil dyed? Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest After so many hours of toil and quest, A famish'd pilgrim,--saved by miracle. Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest 340 Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel."