THE FAIR PATRICIAN. BY L. E. L. LADY, thy lofty brow is fair, And thy lip is like the rose Beautiful Patrician! thou Wearest on thy stately brow All that suits a noble race; All of high born maiden's grace,— Who is there could look on thee And doubt thy nobility? Round thee satin robe is flung, Pearls upon thy neck are hung, And upon thy arm of snow As thou hadst forgotten them. 'Tis a step, but made to tread O'er Persian's web, or flower's head, Soft hand that might only move In the broider'd silken glove, Cheek unused to ruder air Than what hot-house rose might bear; One whom nature only meant To be Queen of the tournament, Courtly fête, and lighted hall,— Grace and ornament of all! |