Page:Records of Woman.pdf/72

64

That night Imelda's voice was in the song, Lovely it floated thro' the festive throng, Peopling her father's halls. That fatal night Her eye look'd starry in its dazzling light, And her cheek glow'd with beauty's flushing dyes, Like a rich cloud of eve in southern skies, A burning, ruby cloud. There were, whose gaze Follow'd her form beneath the clear lamp's blaze, And marvell'd at its radiance. But a few Beheld the brightness of that feverish hue, With something of dim fear; and in that glance Found strange and sudden tokens of unrest, Startling to meet amidst the mazy dance, Where thought, if present, an unbidden guest, Comes not unmask'd. Howe'er this were, the time Sped as it speeds with joy, and grief, and crime Alike: and when the banquet's hall was left Unto its garlands of their bloom bereft, When trembling stars look'd silvery in their wane, And heavy flowers yet slumber'd, once again