The Venetian bracelet the lost Pleiad, a history of the lyre, and other poems. By L. E. L. [i.e. Landon] |
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| II. | II. |
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 | The Venetian bracelet |  |
II.
Fit for a palace was that lovely room,Hung with the azure of an eastern loom,
And carpeted with velvet, where the flowers
Companion'd those whereon the April hours
Had shed their beauty; numbers stood around
Of vases where each varying hue was found,
From the white myrtle-bud and lily-bell,
Like pearls that in the ocean-waters dwell,
To those rich tints which on the tulip lie,
Telling their southern birth and sunny sky,
The wine-cups of the sun:—each silken blind
Waved to and fro upon the scented wind,
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Was in an atmosphere of purple gloom,
First scarcely letting steal one crimson ray,
Then flung all open to the glowing day.
Pictures were hung above; how more than fair!
The changing light made almost life seem there.
A faint rose-colour wander'd o'er the cheek,
Seem'd the chance beams from each dark eye to break;
And you could deem each braided auburn wave
Moved, as its gold the glancing sun-light gave.
And fitting mistress had the charmed scene:
Leant, like a beautiful and eastern queen,
Upon a purple couch—how soft and warm
Clung the rich colour to her ivory arm!—
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Then, as if movement hurried time away,
She paced the room, gazed on each pictured face,—
Then wreath'd the flowers,—then watch'd, as if to trace
The evening close: again the couch was press'd,
But feverish, restless, more for change than rest:
And yet all this was only the excess
Of overmuch impatient happiness.
Many a weary hour and day had past
For that young Countess,—this day was the last.
He was return'd, with all war could confer
Of honourable name, to home and her.
Leoni would to-night be in the hall
Where Count Arezzi held his festival,
Would hear her history; how there was now
Nothing to chain the heart or check the vow.
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This was a moment's grief; though she felt proud
That he should see how well she could beseem
Her present rank, yet keep her early dream;
See her the worship'd of the courtly throng,
Sigh of each lip, and idol of each song;
Hear the fair flatteries offer'd, yet behold
Her courtesy so graceful, but so cold;
And know it was for him her heart's young throne
Was ever kept, the lovely and the lone.
| The Venetian bracelet | |