Founded on a Real Incident which occurred in High Life many years ago.
Within a princely chamber sat
A lady, not alone;
Her queenly brow, so white and high,
No shadow lay upon.
Her slender fingers lightly press’d
The jewel, bright and rare,
That on her heaving bosom gleam’d—
Her lord had placed it there.
“There let it rest, my peerless one,”
Her noble husband said;
“And take the lustrous pearls I bring,
Thy raven hair to braid.
“Come, I will lead thee to a scene
In my ancestral halls,
Where genius, art, and beauty shine
Upon the pictured walls.
“There many a form of grace and love
The painter’s hand hath thrown
Upon the canvas—form like thine
His art hath never shown.”
The palace gallery was rich
In paintings rare and old;
With sculptured marbles ranged between,
Of value all untold.
And all along that gallery fair,
They wandered side by side—
She gazing on the paintings rare,
He on his beauteous bride.
Oft through the garden walks they strayed,
Amid the flush of flowers;
Or sat with clasp
(Janet Hamilton)
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