Chapter V: The Wedding-Garment

Thought it be blither than roses in thine eyes, Shall I not rend this raiment of pangs and fears, This Colchian cloth white flames ensorcelise, This gaudy-veil distained with blood and tears?-- What praise? "_O marriage-beauty garlanded For festival, O sumptuous flowery stole For rites of adoration!_"--See instead A cilice drenched with torment of my soul! Nevertheless the fibres implicate Proud exultations; burning, have revealed Rich throes of triumph, sweetness passionate As painèd lilies reared in thorn-plots yield. Ah! silver wedding-garment of the bride, Ah! fiery cilice, I am satisfied!