III.

    Ascending¹ from the golden east, The sun had gained his zenith height, The guests were gathered to the feast, Prepared to grace the marriage rite²； The youthful and the old were there, The rustic³ swain and bashful fair； The aged⁴, reverend and gray, Yet hale, and garrulous⁵, and gay, Each told, to while the time away, Some tale of his own wedding day； The youthful, timorous⁶ and shy, Spoke⁷ less with lip than tell-tale eye, That, in its stolen glances, sends The language Love best, comprehends. The noontide hour goes by, and yet The bridegroom tarries——why？ and where？ Sure he could not his vows⁸ forget, When she who loves him is so fair！

    And then his honour, faith, and pride, Had bound him to a meaner bride, If once his promise had been given；

    But she, so pure, so far above The common forms of earthly mould, So like the incarnate⁹ shapes of love, Conceived, and born, and nursed in heaven, His love for her could ne'er grow cold！ And yet he comes not. Half way now, From where, at his meridian¹⁰ height, He pours his fullest, warmest light, To where, at eve, in his decline, The day-god sinks into the brine, When his diurnal¹¹ task is done, Descends¹² his ever burning throne, And still the bridegroom is not, there——

    Say, why yet tarries he, and where？