94
THE GOLDEN VIOLET.
And Agatha smiled, as pleased to bear
Gems that a queen might be joyed to wear.
The priest urged that ring had been bless'd in vain,—
And the count and the maiden left the fane.
Change and time take together their flight,
Agatha wanders alone by night.
Has change so soon over passion pass'd,
So soon has the veil from love been cast?
The day at the chase, and the night at the wine,
Vivaldi has left his young bride to pine,
To pine if she would: but not hers the eye
To droop in its weeping, the lip but to sigh;
There is rage in that eye, on that lip there is pride,
As it scorn'd the sorrow its scorn could not hide.
