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'Twas love: her braided hair Was bright, for gems and gold were there. had sometimes feared to guess Her rival's wealth of loveliness. But now—oh, thus had sold His heart, his once fond heart, for gold! Oh! all but this she could have borne— But not to feel for scorn. She left the gallery; next day A pilgrim at an altar lay.— The chapel hung with silk and flower, Meet for  bridal hour:— A boy so wan, so delicate, No marvel at his early fate! A chain of gold lay on the shrine, And underneath a faultering line: "An offering for the happiness Of him whom my love could not bless." All felt it was a woman's prayer— It was had perished there! L. E. L.