CXVIII.

Her brow was white and low, her cheek's pure dye Like twilight rosy still with the set sun; Short upper lip--sweet lips! that make us sigh Ever to have seen such; for she was one[bh] Fit for the model of a statuary (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).[bi][148]