Then was the cordial pour'd, and mantle flung Around his scarce-clad limbs; and the fair arm Raised higher the faint head which o'er it hung; And her transparent cheek, all pure and warm, Pillow'd his death-like forehead; then she wrung His dewy curls, long drench'd by every storm; And watch'd with eagerness each throb that drew A sigh from his heaved bosom and hers, too. And lifting him with care into the cave, The gentle girl, and her attendant, -one Young, yet her elder, and of brow less grave, And more robust of figure, — then begun To kindle fire, and as the new flames gave Light to the rocks that roof'd them, which the sun Had never seen, the maid, or whatsoe'er She was, appear'd distinct, and tall, and fair. Her brow was overhung with coins of gold, That sparkled o'er the auburn of her hair, Her clustering hair, whose longer locks were roll'd In braids behind; and though her stature were Even of the highest for a female mould, They nearly reach'd her heel; and in her air There was a something which bespoke command, As one who was a lady in the land. Her hair, I said, was auburn; but her eyes Forth from its raven fringe the full glance flies, Her brow was white and low, her cheek's pure dye (A race of mere impostors, when all 's done I've seen much finer women, ripe and real, Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal). HAIDEE AGAIN. (DON JUAN, Canto iii. Stanzas 70-75.) Of all the dresses I select Haidée's: She wore two jelicks - one was of pale yellow; Of azure, pink, and white was her chemise 'Neath which her breast heaved like a little billow; With buttons form'd of pearls as large as peas, All gold and crimson shone her jelick's fellow, And the striped white gauze baracan that bound her Like fleecy clouds about the moon flow'd round her. One large gold bracelet clasp'd each lovely arm, So beautiful -its very shape would charm, And clinging as if loath to lose its hold, The purest ore enclosed the whitest skin That e'er by precious metal was held in. Around, as princess of her father's land, A like gold bar above her instep roll'd Announced her rank; twelve rings were on her hand; Her hair was starr'd with gems; her veil's fine fold Below her breast was fasten'd with a band Of lavish pearls, whose worth could scarce be told; Her orange silk full Turkish trousers furl'd About the prettiest ankle in the world. Her hair's long auburn waves down to her heel and would conceal Her person if allow'd at large to run, And still they seem resentfully to feel The silken fillet's curb, and sought to shun Their bonds whene'er some Zephyr caught began To offer his young pinion as her fan. Round her she made an atmosphere of life, Her eyelashes, though dark as night, were tinged (It is the country's custom), but in vain; For those large black eyes were so blackly fringed, The glossy rebels mock'd the jetty stain, And in their native beauty stood avenged: Her nails were touch'd with henna; but again The power of art was turn'd to nothing, for They could not look more rosy than before. AURORA RABY. (DON JUAN, Canto xv. Stanzas 43-47.) AND then there was - but why should I go on, Of the best class, and better than her class, O'er life, too sweet an image for such glass, Rich, noble, but an orphan: left an only Child to the care of guardians good and kind; But still her aspect had an air so lonely! Blood is not water; and where shall we find Feelings of youth like those which overthrown lie By death, when we are left, alas! behind, To feel, in friendless palaces, a home Early in years, and yet more infantine In figure, she had something of sublime All youth - but with an aspect beyond time; Mournful but mournful of another's crime, She was a Catholic, too, sincere, austere, As far as her own gentle heart allow'd, To novel power; and as she was the last, She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew, And kept her heart serene within its zone. |