 | Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven |  |
XLII.
“These take from mortal beauty every stain,And smooth the unseemly lines of age and pain,
With every wondrous efficacy rife:
Nay, once a Spirit whispered of a draught,
Of which a drop, by any mortal quaffed,
Would save for terms of years his feeble flickering life.”
| Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven | |