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E'en thus—a vision of delight, A beam to gladden mortal sight, A flower whose head no storm had bow'd, Whose leaves ne'er droop'd beneath a cloud; Thus, by the world unstain'd, untried, Seem'd that belov'd and lovely Bride; A being all too soft and fair, One breath of earthly woe to bear! Yet lives there many a lofty mind, In light and fragile form enshrin'd; And oft smooth cheek, and smiling eye, Hide strength to suffer and to die! Judge not of woman's heart in hours That strew her path with summer-flowers, When joy's full cup is mantling high, When flattery's blandishments are nigh; Judge her not then! within her breast Are energies unseen, that rest! They wait their call—and grief alone May make the soul's deep secrets known. Yes! let her smile, midst pleasure's train, Leading the reckless and the vain! Firm on the scaffold she hath stood, Besprinkled with the martyr's blood; Her voice the patriot's heart hath steel'd, Her spirit glow'd on battle-field; Her courage freed, from dungeon's gloom, The captive brooding o'er his doom; Her faith the fallen monarch sav'd, Her love the tyrant's fury brav'd;