Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/75

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His voice had that low and lute-like sound, Whose echo within the heart is found. His very faults were those that win Too dazzling and ready an entrance in. Daring, and fiery, wild to range, Reckless of what might ensue from the change; Too eager for pleasures to fill up the void, Till the very impatience their nature destroy'd; Restless, inconstant, he sought to possess,— The danger was dared, and the charm grew less. But, oh! these were only youth's meteor fires, The ignis blaze that with youth expires. No never!—the heart should child-like be train'd, And its wilful waywardness somewhat enchain'd. —Was it the spell of morning dew That o'er his lids its influence threw,