Chapter CXC

Haidée spoke not of scruples, ask’d no vows
Nor offered any; she had never heard
Of plight and promises to be a spouse
Or perils by a loving maid incurr’d;
She was all which pure ignorance allows,
And flew to her young mate like a young bird;
And never having dreamt of falsehood, she
Had not one word to say of constancy.’

“Isn’t this poetry? Wouldn’t any of the minor poets of to-day be surprised and pleased to have found that they had written these stanzas and those which follow until the passage ends thus--