 | The poetical works of Barry Cornwall |  |
189
THE MAGDALEN.
‘And Woman who had wept her loveliest dower,
‘There hid her broken heart.’
Paris, st. 15.
‘There hid her broken heart.’
Paris, st. 15.
I do remember it. 'Twas such a face
As Guido would have loved to dwell upon;
But oh! the touches of his pencil never
Could paint her perfect beauty. In her home
(Which once she did desert) I saw her last;
Propped up by pillows, swelling round her like
Soft heaps of snow, yielding, and fit to bear
Her faded figure.—I observed her well:
Her brow was fair, but very pale, and look'd
Like stainless marble; a touch methought would soil
Its whiteness. O'er her temple one blue vein
Ran like a tendril; one through her shadowy hand
190
Her mouth was tremulous, and her cheek wore then
A flush of beautiful vermilion,
But more like art than nature; and her eye
Spoke as became the youthful Magdalen,
Dying and broken-hearted. ------
| The poetical works of Barry Cornwall | |