XVII
“Nurse, ’tis so close I cannot rest.
Open the window—sit by me.”
“What ails thee, dear?”—“I feel depressed.
Relate some ancient history.”
“But which, my dear?—In days of yore
Within my memory I bore
Many an ancient legend which
In monsters and fair dames was rich;
But now my mind is desolate,
What once I knew is clean forgot—
Alas! how wretched now my lot!”
“But tell me, nurse, can you relate
The days which to your youth belong?
Were you in love when you were young?”—