My chamber: ... See!... did ever ring-dove chuse
In so secure a nook her hiding-place,
Or build a warmer nest? ’Tis fragrant too,
As warm, and not more sweet than soft; for thyme
And myrtle with the elastic heath are laid,
And, over all, this dry and pillowy moss ...
Smiling she spake. Pelayo kiss’d the child,
And, sighing, said within himself, I trust
In Heaven, whene’er thy May of life is come,
Sweet bird, that thou shalt have a blither bower!