344
THE FESTIVAL.
But another is passing before me—
Oh, pause! let me gaze on thy brow:
I've seen thee, fair lady, thrice lovely,
But never so lovely as now.
Thou art changed since those earlier numbers
When thou wert a vision to me;
And, copies from some fairest picture,
My heroines were painted from thee.
Farewell! I shall make thee no longer
My sweet summer queen of romance;
No more will my princes pay homage,
My knights for thy smile break the lance,
Confess they were exquisite lovers,
The fictions that knelt at thy throne;
But the graceful, the gallant, the noble,
What fancy could equal thine own?
