II.

Fair as the Morn and blooming as the rose, Graceful as lily waves its slender stem, Sweet as the breeze that o’er the violet blows, Pure as the light of Sheba’s diadem! Soft was her eye, yet sparkled as a gem, Large, black, and lustrous. Gentle, loved by all-- The poor devoted kist her garment’s hem; The rich admired, nor Envy’s shafts could fall On one so angel-good, of form majestical.