Constance and Martuccio
A mantle, first, of faded red,
And then a robe of laurel-green.
Then a beloved brown-rippled head
With sleep-flushed face the curls between,
"Constance," he cried, "Constance awake!
How came you hither?—for my sake ?
Or has our year-long parting never been?"
She opened wide her happy eyes
That shone so strangely sweet and bright;
She said—"We are in Paradise,
I too was lost at sea last night.
What? did you think when you were drown'd,
I could stay happy on dry ground?
No, no, I came to you, my heart's delight."
Then all her passion overcame
A maid who knew no maiden's art.
And calling on Martuccio's name
She threw herself upon his heart.
But seeing how her lover smiled
She grew to earth right reconciled.
And nevermore did these true lovers part.
For in the palace of the King
They two were wed in Barbary,
And plighted with the self-same ring
That with both lovers crost the sea.
And crost at last with both together
When in the calmest summer weather
They too set sail for home and Sicily.
224
