Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/31

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And seldom did she join the converse gay, Where the light flattery gains its gilded way: They seldom won more than a few cold words, As when unskilful hands awake the chords Or some lorn lute, the music of whose tone Lives for one touch, and only for that one. She dwelt within the circle of her heart, A charm'd world, lovely, lonely, and apart, Where it had seem'd to her as sin and shame Aught there had enter'd, not in his dear name. —It was a spell-touch'd hour. That gorgeous hall, With perfume floating and with music's fall, Light steps, and gentle laugh, and whispers bland,— Was it their words or the sweet airs that fann'd The beauty's cheek into a redder rose?— And starry eyes, like what the clear night shows,