Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/397

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JOSÈ ZORRILLA.
351

Maiden, or angel upon earth,
Thy laugh, and song of gentle mirth,
In heaven were surely heard; thine eyes
Were stars, and like sweet melodies
Thy wandering tones; thy breath perfume,
And dawn-like thy complexion's bloom.

As phantoms then thou didst not find
The hours pass heavy on thy mind,
A poet, under Love's decree,
Sang melancholy songs to thee;
And of his griefs the voice they lend
Thou didst not, maiden, comprehend.

Poor maiden, now what change has come
O'er that glad brow and youthful bloom?
Forgotten flower, thy leaves are sere,
Thy fruitless blossoms dried appear;
Thy powerless stem all broken, low,
May to the sun no colours show.

O! dark-eyed maid of ill-starr'd birth,
Why camest thou on this evil earth?
Rose amid tangled briars born,
What waits thee from the world but scorn?
A blasting breath around thee, see,
Thy bloom is gone, who 'll ask for thee?