XLIV

4 0 00

XLIV

See, as they creep along the river side,

How she doth whisper to that aged Dame,

And, after looking round the champaign wide,

Shows her a knife.⁠—“What feverous hectic flame

Burns in thee, child?⁠—what good can thee betide,

That thou shouldst smile again?”⁠—The evening came,

And they had found Lorenzo’s earthy bed;

The flint was there, the berries at his head.