CVIII.

When he was gone, there was a sudden change:

I know not what might be the lady's thought,

But o'er her bright brow flashed a tumult strange,

And into her clear cheek the blood was brought,

Blood-red as sunset summer clouds which range

The verge of Heaven; and in her large eyes wrought,

A mixture of sensations might be scanned,

Of half voluptuousness and half command.

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