XXV.

Here, he makes end; and all the fry of youth, That stood around with serious look intense, Close up again their gaping eyes and mouth, Which they had opened to his eloquence, As if their hearing were a threefold sense; But now the current of his words is done, And whether any fruits shall spring from thence, In future time, with any mother's son, It is a thing, God wot! that can be told by none.