A healing touch and a holy drink,
A bright little heavenly knife,
And this Northern saint, who prays no prayers,
Brings back the soul from the spirit-winged stairs,[880]
And once more Minorcan Luiz’s dark eyes,
In whose depths the warmth of the tropics lies,
Rest calm[881] on the awe-stricken wife.
“Oh! dear Nordern saint![882] a shrine will I build,
Wild roses I’ll bring from afar,[883]
De jasmine, orange flower, wood tulips bright,