Of overpowering light.—While yet a child,
She, 'mid the humble flowerets of the vale,
Towered like the imperial thistle, not unfurnished
With its appropriate grace, yet rather seeking[572]
To be admired, than coveted and loved.
Even at that age she ruled, a sovereign queen,
Over her comrades;[573] else their simple sports,
Wanting all relish for her strenuous mind,
Had crossed her only to be shunned with scorn.[574]
—Oh! pang of sorrowful regret for those[575]