Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/132

Rh

Nought was there or of shout or song, That bear young monarch's praise along; Many there were that bent the knee, But many bent it silently.

They led him to a stately room, Yet with somewhat of nameless gloom; Flowers were there, but wither'd all; Music, but with a dying fall; Maidens, but each with veiled face. gazed round, he knew the place; 'T was here his interview had been With her its young and radiant queen. There was her couch; was she there yet He started back: the brow was set In its last mould; that marble cheek, Fair as if death were loth to break