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But another is passing before me— Oh, pause! let me gaze on thy brow: I've seen thee, fair lady, thrice lovely, But never so lovely as now. Thou art changed since those earlier numbers When thou wert a vision to me; And, copies from some fairest picture, My heroines were painted from thee.

Farewell! I shall make thee no longer My sweet summer queen of romance; No more will my princes pay homage, My knights for thy smile break the lance, Confess they were exquisite lovers, The fictions that knelt at thy throne; But the graceful, the gallant, the noble, What fancy could equal thine own?