354
JOSE ZORRILLA.
Perchance in evil shadow's guise,
Which may when by the morrow flies
Sign of a curse remain.
Why has my mind been doomed to dream
A phantom loveliness?
To see those charms transparent gleam,
That brow in tranquil light supreme,
And neck's peculiar grace?
Not heighten'd its enchantments shine
By pomp or worldly glow;
I only see that form recline
In tears, before some sacred shrine,
Or castle walls below.
Like a forgotten offering lone,
In ruin'd temple laid;
Upon the carved and time-worn stone,
Where fell it by the rough wind thrown,
So bent beneath the shade.
With such a picture in my mind,
Such name upon my ear,
Before my God the place to find,
Where the forgotten are consign'd,
I come, and bow down here.
