30af)Ita. 155 
Why, a stranger—when he sees her, 
In the street even smileth stilly, 
Just as you would at a lily. 
Miss Barrett. 
Her grace of motion and of look, the smooth 
And swimming majesty of step and tread, 
The symmetry of form and feature, set 
The soul afloat, even like delicious airs 
Of flute and harp. 
Milman. 
Her glossy hair was clustered o’er a brow 
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth; 
Her eyebrow’s shape was like the aerial how, 
Her cheek all purple with the beafn of youth, 
Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow, 
As if her veins ran lightning. 
Byron. 
Do hut look on her eyes! they do light 
All that love’s world compriseth; 
Do hut look on her hair ! it is bright 
As love’s star, when it riseth! 
Do hut mark,—her forehead’s smoother 
Than words that soothe her 1 
And from her arched brows such a grace 
Sheds itself through the face, 
As alone there triumphs to the life. 
All the gain, all the good, of the element’s strife. 
Jonson. 
