Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/243

Rh Flung loosely back, and rippling unconfined In shadowy magnificence below The slim gold girdle o er the snow-soft gown. Vested and draped in close-woven stuff of white, With gold about her throat and waist and wrists, A stately lily ere the dew of morn Hath passed away—such was thy mother, child.

&quot;Would I were like her! But what said she, father? How did she plead for you?

Ah, cunning child, I see thy tricks; thou humorest my age, Knowing how much I love to tell this tale, Though thou hast heard it half a hundred times.

I find it sweet to hear as you to tell, Believe me, father.

’T was to pleasure her, Signor Cortese gave me all I lacked To prove my unfamed skill. A savage pride, Matched oddly with my rags, the haughtiness Wherewith I claimed rather than begged my tools,