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THE TROUBADOUR.
As her bright presence made him feel
Awe that could only gaze and kneel:
And Leila paused, as if afraid
To break upon the recluse maid,
As if her heart took its rebuke
From that cold, calm, and placid look.
"Elvira!"—though the name was said
Low as she fear'd to wake the dead,
Yet it was heard, and, all revealing,
Of her most treasured mortal feeling,
Fondly the Moorish maid was prest
To her she sought, Elvira's breast.
"I pray'd for thee, my hope, my fear,
My Leila! and now thou art near.
Nay, weep not, welcome as thou art
To my faith, friends, and home and heart!"
