192
THE TROUBADOUR.
Seem'd scarcely her's that just had been
His dauntless guide through the wild scene.
At length a stately avenue
Of ancient chesnuts met their view,
And they could see the time-worn walls
Of her they sought, Elvira's halls.
A small path led a nearer way
Through flower-beds in their spring array.
They reach'd the steps, and stood below
A high and marble portico;
They enter'd, and saw kneeling there
A creature even more than fair.
On each white temple the dusk braid
Of parted hair made twilight shade,
That brow whose blue veins shone to show
It was more beautiful than snow.
