Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/137



Mais elle etait du monde, ou les plus belles choses, Ont le pire destin; Et Rose elle a vécu ce que vivent les roses, L'espace d'un Matin.

are bright scenes beneath Italian skies, Where glowing suns their purest light diffuse, Uncultured flowers in wild profusion rise, And nature lavishes her warmest hues; But trust thou not her smile, her balmy breath, Away! her charms are but the pomp of Death!