Page:Forget Me Not (1826).djvu/31

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ALICE. 11


But when, after long travel, he brought home A lovely lady and two cherub babes, Seemed not a wiser or a better man. Henry. And she? Mrs. Neville. She was a thing of life, and light, And beauty. Such a vision as erst filled The dreamy soul of Guido, when he drew His bright Aurora, Such a brilliant flush Of health, and joy, and youth — eternal youth! Year after year rolled on, and stole no charm, No smile from that fair woman. Strangers saw her Propped on her son’s supporting arm, or throwing Her white hand round her daughter’s waist, and deemed She was their younger sister. Oh, how proud That noble son was of her peerless grace! With what a sweet and tender flattery He spake, and with what smiling blushes she Would listen! ’Twas a house of love, The daughter Henry. Was she not like thy Alice? Mrs. Neville. Ay, as like As two white roses. Thou canst scarce have seen The Lady Claremont? thou art all too young. Henry. I’ve seen her portrait, where young purity Is pictured to the life. She sits upon A rock, by the sea-shore, her starry eyes Fixed on the gloomy sky, as if to wait The raging of the storm

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