The cherry-coloured velvet of your cloak br Time hath not soiled: its fair embroideries br Gleam as when centuries ago they spoke br To what bright gallant of Her Daintiness, br Whose slender fingers, long since dust and dead, br For love or courtesy embroidered br The cherry-coloured velvet of this cloak. br br Ah! cunning flowers of silk and silver thread, br That mock mortality? the broidering dame, br The page they decked, the kings and courts are dead: br Gone the age beautiful; Lorenzo's name, br The Borgia's pride are but an empty sound; br But lustrous still upon their velvet ground, br Time spares these flowers of silk and silver thread. br br Gone is that age of pageant and of pride: br Yet don your cloak, and haply it shall seem, br The curtain of old time is set aside; br As through the sadder coloured throng you gleam; br We see once more fair dame and gallant gay, br The glamour and the grace of yesterday: br The elder, brighter age of pomp and pride.