Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/40

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A trifle, toy—but that fair Countess gave No common gift when she became a slave; And only did she hold her gift redeem'd, By that high worthiness she had but dream'd. A peasant, yet she felt his equal still; And when her lofty state beseem'd her will, It was such pride, such pleasure, to have known 's love was for herself alone. And in her young romance's loftier view One touch of vanity might mingle too: It was the triumph of her lowlier state She had been even then a noble's mate. had many faults; her youth Had seen too soon life's bitterness and truth: The cutting word, the cold or scornful look, All that her earlier days had had to brook—