60
THE IMPROVISATRICE.
The smoke and the flame gathered round as before,
Then cleared;—but the bride was seen no more!
I heard the words of praise, but not
The one voice that I paused to hear;
And other sounds to me were like
A tale poured in a sleeper's ear.
Where was Lorenzo?—He had stood
Spell-bound; but when I closed the lay,
As if the charm ceased with the song,
He darted hurriedly away.
I masqued again, and wandered on
Through many a gay and gorgeous room
What with sweet waters, sweeter flowers,
The air was heavy with perfume.
