Luiz, Dolores, and baby brown,
Ah! their blooming life of love!—
But fever falls, with its withering blight;[842]
Dolores keeps watch through the sultry night;
In vain[843] her poor herbs, in vain[844] her poor prayers,
Her Luiz is mounting the silver-winged stairs
That lead up[845] to heaven above.
So, her old boat loaded with oranges,
Her baby tied on her breast,
Dolores rows off to the ancient town,[846]