XXI. They hear, soul-blushing, and repentant shed XXII. The lowly grass !-O water-constant mind! Of meekness, like a bird, and flutters now XXIII. And lo! with eager looks they seek the way To feast on feathers, and on vain array, And painted cheeks, and the rich glistering state Of jewel-sprinkled locks.-But where are they, The graceless haughty ones that used to wait With lofty neck, and nods, and stiffen'd eye?None challenge the old homage bending by. XXIV In vain they look for the ungracious bloom And lofty Pride has stiffen'd to the core, XXV. The aged priest goes on each sabbath morn, XXVI. And where two haughty maidens used to be, Most unmeet pall, over the holy sod ;— Two sombre Peacocks. Age, with sapient nod Marking the spot, still tarries to declare How they once lived, and wherefore they are there. |