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 tarrieswhy？ 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？
