Whom thou so madly lov’dst, is buried now
In Santiago’s green, where lilies o’er her bow.”
XIX.
Dire was the change in all his face, when heard
This fatal news he ne’er before had learned.
He gasped with horror—nor could e’en a word
Put forth—his jawbone fell—as pale he turned
As monumental marble, for inurned
His hopes lay in her tomb. Upon his face
Grief stamped a fearful image. He sojourned