ghts that flicker'd on Alceste's mien,
Veiling dishonour under Virtue's guise,
And avarice as though 'twere sorrow keen;
And still 'mid tears, and groans, and piping sighs,
He querulled forth his plaints the space between,
"Must thy poor father beg so near the grave,
"Be not so cruel--O! my daughter--save!"

XXVII.

"Sir!" softly said she, while the colour fled
From her smooth cheeks till they grew ashy pale,
"Cast off your mourning features--I will wed
"Though Death should be the bridegroom, and not quail;
"The sorrows of our house be on my head;
"What though a woman's--'tis no novel tale,--
"Within her _weakness_ does my comfort lie,
"For if the storm be sore, the _flower_ will die.

XXVIII.

"Think not, sir," she said on with noble scorn,
"This husband of your choosing loses aught
"In that the world doth know him basely born,
"And with a shrine that fits the inner thought;
"Think not a silly woman's heart will mourn
"A shape in Nature's merry moments wrought,
"Or weep the finding of each broad defect,
"Or wish the form less wry or more erect.

XXIX.

"No! sir! each twisted joint will be my pride,
"The blazon of my fortunes to the crowd,
"Till envy shall pursue the happy bride
"Sworn to a lord with graces so endowed;
"And fame shall bear his virtues far and wide,
"And trumpet them unto the world aloud;
"Then let them say--'Ah! she is over-bought;
"'He is a jewel rare, and she is naught'!

XXX.

"But, sir, although I would not have men hold
"My love won by his merits or his charms,
"This tongue shall ne'er the bitter truth unfold,
"Though falsehood soil me with its sneering harms;
"'Tis meet to _you_ the secret should be told,
"But henceforth a stern law my grief disarms;
"Pray heaven, sir, that your conscience may be dumb,
"And his, as my lips for the time to come!"

XXXI.

Thus far her woman's indignation ran,
Roused into conflict by the cruel wrong,
Standing erect before that crouching man,
Weak in his shame--she in her virtue strong;
Whilst on her quivering lips and cheeks so wan,
Reproach and scorn alternate coursed along--
But to her heart the silence went, and then
She swept past in her gentleness again,

XXXII.

The tresses rustling on her neck, and she
A woman meek and tender as a dove,
Yet to her full heart stricken utterly;
And as she went, her moist eyes