{36}

And whosoe’er will grant this boon,

Returning with the morrow’s light,

Shall find the fountain pavement strewn

With gold and jewels bright:

A regal gift—for once, they say,

Her father ruled this broad domain,

The last who kept beneath his sway

This pleasant place of Spain.

It surely is a fearful doom,

That one so beautiful should have

No present quiet in her tomb,

No hope beyond the grave.

It must be, that some amulet

Doth make all human pity vain,

Or that upon her brow is set

The silent seal of pain,{37}

{37}

Which none can meet—else long ago,

Since many gentle hearts are there,

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