Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/176

Rh

In the deep quiet of our ancient halls; Have dwelt too much in solitude, whose fence Was broken but by old beloved friends, To bear this revelry of festival, And not feel too oppress'd for happiness. I am spectator, not partaker, here. To me it seems more like a pageant made To represent mirth, than the mirth itself. I have known many that did act a joy In which they had no part. At first I gazed In wonder and delight on lips that wore A smile as if by custom, and on eyes Which seem'd but made to look bland courtesy. This did not last. I saw the cheek grow red With ill-dissembled anger, at some slight; The eye flash sudden fire, and the harsh lip