TRACY DE VORE AND HUBERT GREY.
With delicate hand, and polish'd skin,
Like Parian marble fair;
Know ye him not? 'Tis Tracy de Vore,
The Baron’s beautiful heir,
Like Parian marble fair;
Know ye him not? 'Tis Tracy de Vore,
The Baron’s beautiful heir,
'Tis Tracy de Vore, the Castle’s pride;
The rich, the nobly born;
Pacing along the sun-lit sod
With the step of o playful fawn,
The rich, the nobly born;
Pacing along the sun-lit sod
With the step of o playful fawn,
The waving plume in his velvet cap
Is bound with a golden band;
His rich and embroider'd suit exhales
The breath of Arabia’s land
Is bound with a golden band;
His rich and embroider'd suit exhales
The breath of Arabia’s land
His light and fragile form is graced
With a girdle of silver'd blue;
And of matchless azure the belt would seem,
Were it not for his eyes' own hue.
With a girdle of silver'd blue;
And of matchless azure the belt would seem,
Were it not for his eyes' own hue.
Look on those eyes, and thou wilt find
A sadness in their beam;
Like the pensive shade that willows cast
On the sky-reflecting stream.
A sadness in their beam;
Like the pensive shade that willows cast
On the sky-reflecting stream.
Soft flowing curls of an auburn shade
Ave falling around his brow;
There's a mantling flush that dwells on his cheek,
Like a rose-leaf thrown on the snow.
Ave falling around his brow;
There's a mantling flush that dwells on his cheek,
Like a rose-leaf thrown on the snow.
There's a haleyon smile spread o'er his face,
Shedding a calm and radiant grace;
There's a sweetness of sound in his talking tones,
Betraying the gentle spirit he owns.
Shedding a calm and radiant grace;
There's a sweetness of sound in his talking tones,
Betraying the gentle spirit he owns.
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