THE QUEEN OF CYPRUS.
109
Irene stood. Was it in pride
Her regal gems were laid aside,
As if she scorn'd them all, content
To be her own best ornament?
The terrace where they stood look'd down
On gathered crowds of her fair town;
'T was a gay scene: on the one side,
Gardens and groves stretch'd far and wide
In gay confusion, flower and tree
Cover'd the green earth to the sea,
One arm of which begirt the walls
Where rose Irene's marble halls.
Upon the terrace, with a band
Of the isle's loveliest at her hand,
Was the young queen. 'Twas as again
The goddess claim'd her ancient reign,
