noon
Was this the return for the confiding kindness of his grandsire ? That he should pledge his troth to the daughter of that grandsire 's foe ? Away with such dark and scaring visions ! Is it not the noon of a summer night fragrant with the breath of gardens , bright with the beam that lovers love , and soft with the breath of Ausonian breezes ? Within that sweet and stately residence , dwells there not a maiden fair enough to revive chivalry ; who is even now thinking of him as she leans on her pensive hand , or , if perchance she dream , recalls him in her visions ? And himself , is he one who would cry craven with such a lot ? What avail his golden youth , his high blood , his daring and devising spirit , and all his stores of wisdom , if they help not now ?