Page:New Monthly 1825.pdf/11



There is an antique gem on which her brow Retains its raven beauty. even now: llcr hair is raided, but one curl behind Floats as enamour’d of the summer wind; The dress is simple, as she were too fair To even think of beauty’s own sweet care; The lip and brow are contrasts, one so fraught With pride, the melancholy pride of thought, Conscwus of its own wer, yet forced to know How very little way t at power will go; Re rctting while too proud of the ﬁne mind, W ich raises but to part it from its kind.— But the sweet mouth had nothing of all this— It was a mouth the bee had learnt to kiss, For her oung sister, telling though now mute, How so an echo it was to the lute. The one spoke genius in its high revealing. The other smiled a woman’s gentler feeling. It was a lovely face, the Greek outline Flowing yet delicate and feminine. The glorious lightnin of the kindled eye, ' as it commnneg with its native sky; ’ A lovely face, the spirir’s ﬁtting shrine,. The one almost, the other quite divine.