James closes his description by a burst of general eulogium:
* Wrought gold.
In her was youth, beauty, with humble port,
Bounty, richesse, and womanly feature;
God better knows then my pen can report,
Wisdom, largesse,* estate,*(2) and cunning*(3) sure,
In every point so guided her measure,
In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance,
That nature might no more her child advance.
* Largesse, bounty.
*(2) Estate, dignity.
*(3) Cunning, discretion.
The departure of the Lady Jane from the garden puts an end to this
transient riot of the heart. With her departs the amorous illusion
that had shed a temporary charm over the scene of his captivity, and
he relapses into loneliness, now rendered tenfold more intolerable
by this passing beam of unattainable beauty. Through the long and
weary day he repines at his unhappy lot, and when evening
approaches, and Phoebus, as he beautifully expresses it, had "bade
farewell to every leaf and flower," he still lingers at the window,
and, laying his head upon the cold stone, gives vent to a mingled flow
of love and sorrow, until, gradually lulled by the mute melancholy
of the twilight hour, he lapses, "half sleeping, half swoon," into a
vision, which occupies the remainder of the poem, and in which is
allegorically shadowed out the history of his passion.
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