Chapter 1507 of 1964 · 68 words · ~1 min read

LXXV.

She cannot step as does an Arab barb,[643] Or Andalusian girl from mass returning, Nor wear as gracefully as Gauls her garb, Nor in her eye Ausonia's glance is burning; Her voice, though sweet, is not so fit to warb- le those _bravuras_ (which I still am learning To like, though I have been seven years in Italy, And have, or had, an ear that served me prettily);--