Note B — Chapter XVII · IN WHICH THE PUZZLE FALLS INTO PLACE

So still and calm the night is, The very winds asleep, My heart’s so tender sentinel His watch and ward doth keep. And on the wings of zephyrs soft That wander how they will, To thee, O woman fair, to thee My prayers go fluttering still. Oh, take the heart’s love to thy heart Of one that doth adore! Have pity, add not to the flame That burns thy troubadour! And if compassion stirs thy breast For my eternal woe, Oh, as I love thee, loveliest Of women, love me so!