VIII.
Dancing in her handsome prince's arms
Lura's dreams have never held such charms.
Here is happiness! Here is sweet cheer!
Here is love! – Aye, love is surely here.
All the court is struck with the princess,
"What fine jewels!" they cry, "What gorgeous dress –
Like a moonbeam on a wintry night!
Never have we seen so fair a sight."
Only some few jealous girls declare:
"I see little grace or beauty there –
Dare I say it, I would look as well
Standing up with dashing Faravel…
And that dress would any maiden flatter!"
But, indeed, they do mistake the matter. –
Lura's beauty is no shallow thing:
Born of goodness, shaped by suffering,
Forged within a patient, loving heart:
All these things set Luralai apart.
On and on the happy couple dance,
Like as if within some magic trance –
But – alack! The midnight bell doth chime.
Will the lovely princess stay this time?
Nay, she slips away like some shy sprite
Hastening into the inky night.
Once more Faravel her course pursues:
Through the gardens, past the sheds and mews,
Down into the servants' low domain:
But, alas, he seeks for her in vain –
She has simply vanished in thin air.
Only Thousand-Furs is sitting there.
"Hast thou seen a silver maid?" asks he.
Lura answers, "Nay. 'Tis only me."