Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/79

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Wept o'er the widowed dove; and, loveliest form,Majestic Chastity, whose sober smileDelights and awes the soul; a laurel wreathRestrain'd her tresses, and upon her breastThe [1]snow-drop hung its head, that seem'd to growSpontaneous, cold and fair: still by the maidLove went submiss, with eye more dangerousThan fancied basilisk to wound whoe'erToo bold approached; yet anxious would he readHer every rising wish, then only pleasedWhen pleasing. Hymning him the song was rais'd.
"Glory to thee whose vivifying powerPervades all Nature's universal frame!Glory to thee Creator Love! to thee,
  1. ↑ “The grave matron does not perceive how time has impaired her charms, but decks her faded bosom with the same snow-drop that seems to grow on the breast of the Virgin.” P.H.
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