She conquered and each dim distrust expired
And satisfied she held them in their chains,
Held them, until tired of their servitude
She snapped the subtle chains and turned aside
To win some other heart on which her charms
Had been before unwasted and untried
And left them hopeless, ruined, in despair.
And satisfied she held them in their chains,
Held them, until tired of their servitude
She snapped the subtle chains and turned aside
To win some other heart on which her charms
Had been before unwasted and untried
And left them hopeless, ruined, in despair.
Thus had she lived, success she boasted hers
And loved the life of coquetry she led,
And counted with exultant victory
The hearts whose love for her had long been dead,
Some in a real, some in a living grave.
No pangs seemed ever to disturb her calm,
Mercy was not to her a transient guest,
Estella, ever gayest of the gay,
With countless fascinating talents blest,
Was said by many to possess no heart.
She reigned a feared yet a resistless queen,
No other dared with her rare charms compete;
She caught her victim with a smile, a glance,
She left him in the dust, low at her feet
And mocked his frail endeavors to arise.
And loved the life of coquetry she led,
And counted with exultant victory
The hearts whose love for her had long been dead,
Some in a real, some in a living grave.
No pangs seemed ever to disturb her calm,
Mercy was not to her a transient guest,
Estella, ever gayest of the gay,
With countless fascinating talents blest,
Was said by many to possess no heart.
She reigned a feared yet a resistless queen,
No other dared with her rare charms compete;
She caught her victim with a smile, a glance,
She left him in the dust, low at her feet
And mocked his frail endeavors to arise.
Ah, fair Estella! Can that lovely smile
Dimpling the cheek.and pearly brow of youth,
So like the innocence it should have been,
Be but the masking of a dread untruth,
A thing of base, despised hypocrisy?
Can those fair words in cadence soft and sweet,
Befitting to a soul exalted, high,
Be but a garment by dark falsehood worn,
Or but a covering of a hidden lie,
A snare, a gilded cloak of vile deceit?
'Tis hard to think yet it is even so.
Thy bud of promise faded ere it bloomed,
Dimpling the cheek.and pearly brow of youth,
So like the innocence it should have been,
Be but the masking of a dread untruth,
A thing of base, despised hypocrisy?
Can those fair words in cadence soft and sweet,
Befitting to a soul exalted, high,
Be but a garment by dark falsehood worn,
Or but a covering of a hidden lie,
A snare, a gilded cloak of vile deceit?
'Tis hard to think yet it is even so.
Thy bud of promise faded ere it bloomed,
[ 515 ]
