THE QUEEN OF CYPRUS.
115
Leant on a silken couch, which caught
The air with fragrant rose-breath fraught,
Lay the young queen. As if oppress'd
With its rich weight, her purple vest
Was doff'd, as if with it were laid
Aside cares, pomp, and vain parade.
While, like a cloud in the moonlight,
Floated her graceful robe of white.
Just stirred enough the scented air
To lift the sunny wreaths of hair,
And bear the tresses from the ground,
Which the attendant maids unbound.
A cheerful meeting wont to be
That evening hour's tranquillity.
There with the young, the frank, the gay,
Irene would be glad as they,
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