And placed them in this ruin; and she wish'd

The Prince had found her in her ancient home; Then let her fancy flit across the past,

And roam the goodly places that she knew ;

And last bethought her how she used to watch, Near that old home, a pool of golden carp;

And one was patch'd and blurr'd and lustreless
Among his burnish'd brethren of the pool;
And half asleep she made comparison

Of that and these to her own faded self
And the gay court, and fell asleep again;
And dreamt herself was such a faded form
Among her burnish'd sisters of the pool;
But this was in the garden of a king;

And tho' she lay dark in the pool, she knew
That all was bright; that all about were birds
Of sunny plume in gilded trellis-work ;

That all the turf was rich in plots that look'd Each like a garnet or a turkis in it;

And lords and ladies of the high court went

In silver tissue talking things of state;

And children of the king in cloth of gold

Glanced at the doors or gambol'd down the walks ;
And while she thought they will not see me,' came
A stately queen whose name was Guinevere,
And all the children in their cloth of gold

Ran to her, crying, 'if we have fish at all

Let them be gold; and charge the gardeners now

To pick the faded creature from the pool,

And cast it on the mixen that it die.'

And therewithal one came and seized on her,

And Enid started waking, with her heart

All overshadow'd by the foolish dream,
And lo! it was her mother grasping her
To get her well awake; and in her hand
A suit of bright apparel, which she laid

Flat on the couch, and spoke exultingly :

'See here, my child, how fresh the colours look,

How fast they hold, like colours of a shell

That keeps the wear and polish of the wave.

Why not? it never yet was worn, I trow :

Look on it, child, and tell me if

you know it.'

And Enid look'd, but all confused at first,

Could scarce divide it from her foolish dream:

Then suddenly she knew it and rejoiced,

And answer'd, 'Yea, I know it; your good gift,

So sadly lost on that unhappy night;

Your own good gift!' 'Yea, surely,' said the dame,
And gladly given again this happy morn.
For when the jousts were ended yesterday,
Went Yniol thro' the town, and everywhere
He found the sack and plunder of our house
All scatter'd thro' the houses of the town;
And gave command that all which once was ours,
Should now be ours again and yester-eve,

While you were talking sweetly with your Prince,
Came one with this and laid it in my hand,

For love or fear, or seeking favour of us,

Because we have our earldom back again.
And yester-eve I would not tell you of it,
But kept it for a sweet surprise at morn.
Yea, truly is it not a sweet surprise?

For I myself unwillingly have worn

My faded suit, as you, my child, have yours,
And howsoever patient, Yniol his.

Ah, dear, he took me from a goodly house,
With store of rich apparel, sumptuous fare,
And page, and maid, and squire, and seneschal,
And pastime both of hawk and hound, and all
That appertains to noble maintenance.

Yea, and he brought me to a goodly house;
But since our fortune slipt from sun to shade,
And all thro' that young traitor, cruel need
Constrain'd us, but a better time has come ;
So clothe yourself in this, that better fits
Our mended fortunes and a Prince's bride :

For tho' you won the prize of fairest fair,
fairest fair,

And tho' I heard him call you

Let never maiden think, however fair,

She is not fairer in new clothes than old.

And should some great court-lady say, the Prince

Hath pick'd a ragged-robin from the hedge,

And like a madman brought her to the court,

Then were you shamed, and, worse, might shame the

Prince

To whom we are beholden; but I know,

When my dear child is set forth at her best,

That neither court nor country, tho' they sought

Thro' all the provinces like those of old

That lighted on Queen Esther, has her match.'

Here ceased the kindly mother out of breath;
And Enid listen'd brightening as she lay;
Then, as the white and glittering star of morn
Parts from a bank of snow, and by and by

Slips into golden cloud, the maiden rose,

And left her maiden couch, and robed herself,
Help'd by the mother's careful hand and eye,