THE BLUE DWARF. 
85 
When the wine fills me.  Pray you ! 
 
His slave presents wine to Govinda, who drinks. 
 
GOVINDA 
 
Health, my lord !  
This wine is marvellous dry ! 
Scented like clover reaching up the broad  
Edge of some glacier in my northern marches. 
 
CHAU 
 
Look, how she writhes — speechless distemperature 
Her shriek within her gorge that parches ! 
 
GOVINDA 
 
Boy, bid that cup-slave from Ferozapur  
Make me an ode of this — nay, while I think !  
An elegy. 
 
CHAU 
 
Please your majesty to drink ? 
 
GOVINDA 
 
Thanks, brother.  Well, my gipsy girl divined