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Inviting us in glee to sit and eat.
A napkin, white as foam of that rough brook
By which it had been bleached, o'erspread the board;
And was itself half-covered with a load
Of dainties,—oaten bread, curds, cheese, and cream,
And cakes of butter curiously embossed,
Butter that had imbibed a golden tinge,
A hue like that of yellow meadow flowers
Reflected faintly in a silent pool.
Nor lacked, for more delight on that warm day,
Our Table, small parade of garden fruits,
And whortle-berries from the mountain-sides.
The Child, who long ere this had stilled his sobs,
Was now a help to his late Comforter,
And moved a willing Page, as he was bid,
Ministering to our need.
In genial mood
While at our pastoral banquet thus we sate
Fronting the window of that little Cell,
I could not ever and anon forbear
To glance an upward look on two huge Peaks,
That from some other Vale peered into this.
"Those lusty Twins on which your eyes are cast,"
