“What sayest thou of husbands,
O dearest mother mine?
Never for hero’s wooing
shall I, your daughter, pine!
Spotless and fair would I be,
as now, unto my death;—
I would forego the sorrow
that lurks man’s love beneath.”
“What sayest thou of husbands,
O dearest mother mine?
Never for hero’s wooing
shall I, your daughter, pine!
Spotless and fair would I be,
as now, unto my death;—
I would forego the sorrow
that lurks man’s love beneath.”