150
Count Julio.
Her costly playthings; all companionless,
These were her childish pastimes. Years wore on,
Till the close dawn of perfect womanhood
Flushed in her cheek and brightened in her eye.
And the girl learned to know how fair the face
Those dingy walls had cloistered from the sun;
To bear her head more proudly, and to step,
If not so lightly, with a queenlier tread.
Love-songs were framed for her, her midnight sleep
Was broken by the sound of silver lutes,
And the young gallants caracoled their steeds
Grayly, at eve, beneath her balcony.
These were her childish pastimes. Years wore on,
Till the close dawn of perfect womanhood
Flushed in her cheek and brightened in her eye.
And the girl learned to know how fair the face
Those dingy walls had cloistered from the sun;
To bear her head more proudly, and to step,
If not so lightly, with a queenlier tread.
Love-songs were framed for her, her midnight sleep
Was broken by the sound of silver lutes,
And the young gallants caracoled their steeds
Grayly, at eve, beneath her balcony.
She went forth to the world, and careless lips
Told her the shame that was her heritage.
And scornful fingers pointed, as she passed,
To the rare jewels, and the broidered robes,
That decked the miser's daughter. Envious tongues
Gilded anew the half-forgotten tale,
And it became the marvel of all Rome.
Thus till the diadem of gems and gold
Burned on her white brow like a circling flame,
Told her the shame that was her heritage.
And scornful fingers pointed, as she passed,
To the rare jewels, and the broidered robes,
That decked the miser's daughter. Envious tongues
Gilded anew the half-forgotten tale,
And it became the marvel of all Rome.
Thus till the diadem of gems and gold
Burned on her white brow like a circling flame,
