THE MINSTREL OF PORTUGAL.
207
He saw the lady once at matin time,—
Saw her when bent in meek humility
Before the altar; she was then unveiled,
And Juan gazed upon the face which was
Thenceforth the world to him! Awhile he looked
Upon the white hands clasped gracefully;
The rose-bud lips, moving in silent prayer;
The raven hair, that hung as a dark cloud
On the white brow of morning! She arose,
And as she moved, her slender figure waved
Like the light cypress, when the breeze of Spring
Wakes music in its boughs. As Juan knelt
It chanced her eyes met his, and all his soul
Maddened in that slight glance! She left the place;
Yet still her shape seemed visible, and still
He felt the light through the long eyelash steal
