Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/104



And left the place to me a haunted shrine, Hallow'd by genius in its holiest mood. —At Count 's pallazzo the next night We were to meet, and expectation wore Itself with fancies,—all of them were vain. I could not image aught so wholly changed. Her robe was Indian red, and work'd with gold, And gold the queen-like girdle round her waist. Her hair was gather'd up in grape-like curls; An emerald wreath, shaped into vine leaves, made Its graceful coronal. Leant on a couch The centre of a group, whose converse light Made a fit element, in which her wit Flash'd like the lightning:—on her cheek the rose Burnt like a festal lamp; the sunniest smiles Wander'd upon her face.—I only knew