Let loose their streaming hair,
And, when their souls were won, became,
Ash-white, their couch-mate fair.
Anon, the fire was raging higher.
But these to rest were given,
Long ere the bells had wail’d farewells
When out the belfry driven.
To Santiago’s mourning homes
At morn a stranger stray’d,
And found, where once of all those domes