Apart the veiling curls she flung,
That o’er her face dishevelled hung.
Though tear-strain’d, pale, and worn with care,
Surpassing loveliness was there;
And when she met the earnest eye
Of kind, yet dubious scrutiny,
O’er her chill paleness, rushing came
From breast to brow the crimson shame.
—“My father bears a noble name,
My birth-place was a lordly hall;