Page:Troubadour.pdf/76

72

And sparkling gems were around her arm, That shone like marble, only warm, With the blue veins wandering tide, And the hand with its crimson blush inside. A zone of precious stones embraced The graceful circle of her waist, Sparkling as if they were proud Of the clasp to them allow'd. But yet there was 'mid this excess Of soft and dazzling loveliness, A something in the eye, and hand, And forehead, speaking of command: An eye whose dark flash seem'd allied To even more than beauty's pride,— A hand as only used to wave Its sign to worshipper and slave,—