THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK.
31
The Queen of Cyprus, she has now
No empire but her own sweet brow—
No other influence than what lies
In the deep azure of her eyes.
But she who hath such look and mien
Is still the hearts' enthroned queen.
Her maiden train, with curious care,
Knit the rich tresses of her hair;
And never king had carved gold
Like those bright lengths together rolled,
With sunshine gathered in each fold.
The velvet robe with gold was laced,
And jewels bound the slender waist:
They suited well her high degree,
And queen-like look and step had she!
She saw her graceful shadow fall
O'er the small mirror in the wall;
