Her hair's long auburn waves down to her heel Flow'd like an Alpine torrent which the sun Dyes with his morning light,—and would conceal Her person if allow'd at large to run, And still they seem resentfully to feel The silken fillet's curb, and sought to shun Their bonds whene'er some Zephyr caught began To offer his young pinion as her fan. Round her she made an atmosphere of life, The very air seem'd lighter from her eyes, Her eyelashes, though dark as night, were tinged (It is the country's custom), but in vain ; For those large black eyes were so blackly fringed, The glossy rebels mock'd the jetty stain, And in their native beauty stood avenged: Her nails were touch'd with henna; but again The power of art was turn'd to nothing, for They could not look more rosy than before. N AURORA RABY. (DON JUAN, Canto xv. Stanzas 43-47.) AND then there was-but why should I go on, Unless the ladies should go off?—there was Indeed a certain fair and fairy one, Of the best class, and better than her class,— Aurora Raby, a young star who shone O'er life, too sweet an image for such glass, ; Rich, noble, but an orphan: left an only Blood is not water; and where shall we find Early in years, and yet more infantine In figure, she had something of sublime In eyes which sadly shone, as seraphs' shine. All youth-but with an aspect beyond time; Radiant and grave-as pitying man's decline; Mournful-but mournful of another's crime, She look'd as if she sate by Eden's door, And grieved for those who could return no more. She was a Catholic, too, sincere, austere, As far as her own gentle heart allow'd, And deem'd that fallen worship far more dear Perhaps because 'twas fall'n: her sires were proud Of deeds and days when they had fill'd the ear Of nations, and had never bent or bow'd To novel power; and as she was the last, She held their old faith and old feelings fast. She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew, And kept her heart serene within its zone. Apart from the surrounding world, and strong |