We might have trembled at its loveliness.
Joy is no earthly flower—nor framed to bear,
In its exotic bloom, life’s cold, ungenial air.
VIII.
All smiled around thee: Youth, and Love, and Praise,
Hearts all devotion and all truth were thine!
On thee was riveted a nation’s gaze,
As on some radiant and unsullied shrine.
Heiress of empires! thou art pass’d away
Like some fair vision, that arose to throw