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24
FRANCIS FALUDI.
THE FALSE MAID.
Uri nemzet eredete
Deli, jeles, ép termete.
She is born of noble stem,
Fairer than the fairest gem
Which upon her robe doth shine,
Graceful, beautiful, divine.
What avails it all to me?
She is false as false can be!
She has eyes like damsons black,
Shining like the comet's track;
Mouth of witchery—lightning glance—
Heaven is in her countenance.
What avails it all to me?
She is false as false can be!
Neck of alabaster, lips
Crimson roses to eclipse,
Chin of marble's smoothest glow,
Shoulders piled of purest snow.
What avails it all to me?
She is false as false can be!
