LXII

Piteous she look'd on dead and senseless things,

      Asking for her lost Basil amorously:

And with melodious chuckle in the strings

      Of her lorn voice, she oftentimes would cry

After the Pilgrim in his wanderings,

      To ask him where her Basil was; and why

'T was hid from her: 'For cruel 'tis,' said she,

'To steal my Basil-pot away from me.'