Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/79

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Till, lost amid the distant skies, Each only look'd a burning star. Again, at morning's dewy hour, He saw them seek their ocean bow'r; Again those dark eyes met his own— Again the lovely dream is flown. —Night after night thus pass'd; but now The young Moon wears less vestal brow. Her silver veil is lined with gold; Like a crown'd queen, she comes to hold Her empire in the sky alone— No rival near her midnight throne. Sometimes he fancied o'er the tide He saw pale phantoms dimly glide: The moonbeams fell o'er sea and sky, No other light met ' eye.