Her yellow hair is soft, and her soft eyes
—Are as the dove's for meekness. Only feel
The softness of the hand in mine that lies!
—The sheath is velvet, but the sword is steel.

Soft are her footsteps; and her low replies
—The lover's woe like softest music heal.
Ah, let him still remember and be wise,
—The sheath is velvet, but the sword is steel!