Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/21

Rh The loveliest flower that ever opened yet Laid in the fairest branch—a pearl that's set In richest coral—with her smile might vie Flashing through lips bright with their rosy dye. And when she spoke—upon the maiden's tongue Distilling nectar, such rare accents hung, The sweetest note that e'er the Koil poured Seemed harsh and tuneless as a jarring chord. The melting glance of that soft Hquid eye, Tremulous like lilies when the breezes sigh, Which learnt it first—so winning and so mild— The gentle fawn, or gentler child? And oh, the arching of her brow! so fine Was the rare beauty of its pencilled line— gazed upon her forehead in despair And spurned the bow he once esteemed so fair : Her long bright tresses too might shame the pride Of envious antelopes on the mountain-side. Surely the Maker's care had been to cull From all that's lovely the most beautiful, As if the world's Creator would behold All beauty centred in a single mould.

When holy —Saint who roams at will — First saw the daughter of the royal Hill, He hailed the bride whom love should own Half of himself, and partner of his throne; listened, and the father's pride Would yield the maiden for no other's bride; To Fire alone of all bright things we raise The holy hymn, the sacrifice of praise: