Their eyes appeared of heavenly blue,
Their tresses of the purest gold;
Their stately forms arose to view,
Beneath the veil's transparent fold,
As white and lovely to behold.
But what avail the gay brocade,
The city's silks, and jewels' pride;
Or charms in rosy smiles array'd,
With brilliant gaiety supplied,
That all to beauty are allied?
When but is seen my country girl,
Clad in her robe of simple white,
Shamed are the needless silk and pearl;
And by her pure and blooming light
Confused hides beauty at the sight.
Where shall I find in icy clime
Her black and beaming eyes of fire?
That whether scornfully the time,
To look, or kindly they desire,
To rob me of my peace conspire?
Where the black hair that may like hers
In hue with ebony compare?
Where the light foot that never stirs,
When bounding o'er the meadows fair,
The lowly flowers that blossom there?
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184
FRANCISCO MARTINEZ DE LA ROSA.
