The Water of the Wondrous Isles | Page 9

so smooth and simple are they and with their long full lashes. But well are thine eyen set in thine head, wide apart, well opened, and so as none shall say thou mayst not look in the face of them. Thy cheeks shall one day be a snare for the unwary, yet are they not fully rounded, as some would have them; but not I, for most pitiful kind are they forsooth. Delicate and clear-made is the little trench that goeth from thy nose to thy lips, and sweet it is, and there is more might in it than in sweet words spoken. Thy lips, they are of the finest fashion, yet rather thin than full; and some would not have it so; but I would, whereas I see therein a sign of thy valiancy and friendliness. Surely he who did thy carven chin had a mind to a master-work and did no less. Great was the deftness of thine imaginer, and he would have all folk that see thee wonder at thy deep thinking and thy carefulness and thy kindness. Ah maiden! is it so that thy thoughts are ever deep and solemn? Yet at least I know it of thee that they be hale and true and sweet.
My friend, when thou hast a mirror, some of all this shalt thou see, but not all; and when thou hast a lover some deal wilt thou hear, but not all. But now thy she-friend may tell it thee all, if she have eyes to see it, as have I; whereas no man could say so much of thee before the mere love should overtake him, and turn his speech into the folly of love and the madness of desire. So now I have played the play, and told thee of thee; tell me now of me, and play thy play.
For a while stood Birdalone silent, blushing and confused, but whiles casting shy glances at her own body, what she might see of it. At last she spake: Fair friend, I would do thy will, but I am not deft of speech; for I speak but little, save with the fowl and wild things, and they may not learn me the speech of man. Yet I will say that I wonder to hear thee call me fair and beauteous; for my dame tells me that never, nor sayeth aught of my aspect save in her anger, and then it is: Rag! and bag-of-bones! and when wilt thou be a woman, thou lank elf thou? The new-comer laughed well-favouredly hereat, and put forth a hand, and stroked her friend's cheek. Birdalone looked piteous kind on her and said: But now I must needs believe thy words, thou who art so kind to me, and withal thyself so beauteous. And I will tell thee that it fills my heart with joy to know that I am fair like to thee. For this moreover I will tell thee, that I have seen nought in field or woodland that is as lovely to me as thou art; nay, not the fritillary nodding at our brook's mouth, nor the willow-boughs waving on Green Eyot; nor the wild-cat sporting on the little woodlawn, when she saw me not; nor the white doe rising up from the grass to look to her fawn; nor aught that moves and grows. Yet there is another thing which I must tell thee, to wit, that what thou hast said about the fashion of any part of me, that same, setting aside thy lovely words, which make the tears come into the eyes of me, would I say of thee. Look thou! I take thine hair and lay the tress amongst mine, and thou mayst not tell which is which; and amidst the soft waves of it thy forehead is nestling smooth as thou saidst of mine: hawk-grey and wide apart are thine eyen, and deep thought and all tenderness is in them, as of me thou sayest: fine is thy nose and of due measure; and thy cheeks a little hollow, and somewhat thin thy lovely lips; and thy round chin so goodly carven, as it might not be better done. And of thy body else I will say as thou sayst of mine, though I deem these hands have done more work than thine. But see thou! thy leg and mine as they stand together; and thine arm, as if it were of my body. Slim and slender thou art, or it may be lank; and I deem our dame would call thee also bag-of-bones. Now is this strange. Who art thou? Art thou my very own sister? I would thou wert.
Spake then to Birdalone that image of her, and said, smiling kindly on her: As to our likeness, thou