Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

   Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale,
   Oh! had you known her in her softer hour,
   Marked her black eye that mocks her coal-black veil,
   Heard her light, lively tones in lady’s bower,
   Seen her long locks that foil the painter’s power,
   Her fairy form, with more than female grace,
   Scarce would you deem that Saragoza’s tower
   Beheld her smile in Danger’s Gorgon face,
Thin the closed ranks, and lead in Glory’s fearful chase.