As white thou art in beauty and in name.
Oh gentle Blanca, in whose snowy breast
Nestleth the bliss of love for which I yearn,
Before my breast, with woeful tears oppressed,
Doth unto dust and wretched earth return,
Show that thine own is in some way distressed
With all the grief and pain wherein I burn,
A guerdon this will be, so rich and sure
As to repay the evil I endure.
Thou'rt white as silver; for thy loveliness