I fancied, while you stood conversing there,
Superb, in every attitude a queen,
Her ermine thus Boadicea bare,
So moved amid the multitude Faustine.
My life, whose whole religion Beauty is,
Be charged with sin if ever before yours A lesser feeling crossed my mind than his Who owning grandeur marvels and adores.
Nay, rather in my dream-world's ivory tower I made your image the high pearly sill,
And mounting there in many a wistful hour,
Burdened with love,
I trembled and was still,
Seeing discovered from that azure height Remote, untrod horizons of delight.
