Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/65

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He look'd to the west, and the tranquil main Was branch'd with many a life-like vein; Hues of the rosebud the clouds had cast, Like a cheek on its mirror in gliding past. It tempted him forth,—to the lulling gale Prince has open'd his silken sail, And the little boat went over the sea Like foam, for it was of ivorie, And carved and shaped like a wreathed shell, And it was lined with the rose as well; For the couch was made of those plumes that fling The one warm tint neath the wood-dove's wing. O'er the purple sail the golden flowers run, For it was wrought for a monarch's son; And as it past on, the air was fill'd With odours, for only waters distill'd