Chapter XXXIV

And well such strains the opening scene became;
For VALOUR had relaxed his ardent look,
And at a lady’s feet, like lion tame,
Lay stretched, full loath the weight of arms to brook;
And softened BIGOTRY, upon his book,
Pattered a task of little good or ill:
But the blithe peasant plied his pruning-hook,
Whistled the muleteer o’er vale and hill,
And rung from village-green the merry seguidille.