One villain seized the gentle Ana’s arm,
And dragged her to the bowering vineyard near;
With cruel irony, “lest aught of harm,”
He said, “should chance to reach your sister dear,
“I’ll take my carbine with me,”—for with fear
He marked the flashing wrath in Blanca’s eye;
Then o’er his shoulder with this parting jeer
He sought to rouse his comrade: “Jules, good b’ye;
“The dove you think you’ve caught may like a falcon fly.”
X.