“But vain the toil. Thy image, Isidor, For ever haunted thus my troubled brain. The prisoned lion doth the fiercer roar, And chafed my tortured spirit ’neath its chain. The thought that Isidora”--’Twas in vain He checked the tears that here began to flow, Tears that like molten fire adown did rain.-- “The thought that _she_ could not be mine--the wo Unutterable racked my brain to madness--so! XV. “The sack of San Sebastian came to ope My convent-door which War’s dread fire consumed. Kindled that fire in me a ray of hope. I rushed to your house--but found its Lar entombed In smouldering ashes. Like a spirit doomed, I wandered then Guipúscoa’s confines through, When chance another ray of Hope illumed. I found the garden, saw your sire and you, But nought of Isidor could learn, nor e’er could view. XVI. “All thought of her I checked--but while my soul Shook with its mortal agony I sought Relief in the design to this rude goal To bear thee, maiden, as I now have brought, And gaze upon thy face where Nature wrought Such likeness unto _her_--but fear not harm From me! Thou’rt as a sister dear, whom nought Shall dare to injure. Let me drink the charm Of thy sweet face i’ the Moon--nay, curb thy vain alarm! XVII. “’Tis her’s I see in thine--her angel face In thee depictured. In the moonlight stand, I pray thee, Isabel.”--On that lone place The sound of oars and voices from the strand Fell--’tis the Basque barqueras come to land; And straight they fill the cave, where from the storm They seek retreat. Amazed the Nereid band Behold the frayle’s and the maiden’s form; But soon the mystery solved uproused their spirits warm. XVIII. “Go, Frayle, to thy book and to thy beads; With dame or damsel nought concerns thee more. Off to thy cloister, breviary, and weeds, Or straight we’ll drive thee forth with lusty oar, Laid on thy shoulders till no bull shall roar On Guetaría’s plain more loud than thou. The peerless lily, Doña Isidor, Whom thou so madly lov’dst, is buried now In Santiago’s green, where lilies o’er her bow.” XIX. Dire was the change in all his face, when heard This fatal news he ne’er before had learned. He gasped with horror--nor could e’en a word Put forth--his jawbone fell--as pale he turned As monumental marble, for inurned His hopes lay in her tomb. Upon his face Grief stamped a fearful image. He sojourned But for an instant more--“’Tis lilies grace “Her grave?” he said--they nod--he roelike fled the place! XX.