There was a soft and pensive grace,
A cast of thought upon her face,
That suited well the forehead high,
The eye-lash dark, and downcast eye;
The mild expression spoke a mind
In duty firm, composed, resign'd.

_Rokeby, Canto 4._


The rose, with faint and feeble streak
So slightly tinged the maiden's cheek,
That you had said her hue was pale;
But if she faced the summer-gale,
Or spoke, or sung, or quicker moved,
Or heard the praise of those she loved,
Or when of interest was express'd
Aught that waked feeling in her breast,
That mantling blood in ready play
Rivall'd the blush of rising day.

_Rokeby, Canto 4._


What woman knows not her own road to victory?--_The Talisman._


She had been beautiful, and was stately and majestic in her
appearance. Endowed by nature with strong powers and violent