There are gold and silver vases
Where carved victories shine;
While within the sunlight blazes
Of the fragrant Teian wine,
Or the sunny Cyprian isle.
From the garlands on each brow
Take they early roses now;
And each rose-leaf bears a vow,
As they pledge the radiant smile
Of the beautiful Aspasia,
The bright Athenian bride.
With the spoils of nations splendid
Is that stately feast;
By her youthful slaves attended—
Beauties from the East,
With their large black dewy eyes.
Though their dark hair sweeps the ground,
Every heavy tress is wound
With the white sea-pearl around;
For no queen in Persia vies
With the proud Aspasia,
The bright Athenian bride.
One hath caught mine eye—the fairest;
'Tis a Theban girl:
Though a downcast look thou wearest,
And nor flower nor pearl
Winds thy auburn hair among:
With a white, unsandall'd foot,
Leaning languid on thy lute,
Weareth thy soft lip, though mute,
Smiles yet sadder than thy song.
Can grief come nigh Aspasia,
The bright Athenian bride?
On an ivory couch reclining
Doth the bride appear;
In her eyes the light is shining,
For her chief is near;—
And her smile grows bright to gaze
On the stately Pericles,
Lord of the Athenian seas,
And of Greece's destinies.
Glorious, in those ancient days,
Was the lover of Aspasia,
The bright Athenian bride.
Round her small head, perfume-breathing
Was a myrtle stem,
Fitter for her bright hair's wreathing
Than or gold or gem;
For the myrtle breathes of love.
O'er her cheek so purely white,
From her dark eyes came such light
As is, on a summer night,
With the moon above.
Fair as moonlight was Aspasia,
The bright Athenian bride.
