Each sun-bright ray that o’er its bosom steals,
So were her looks with mirror truth endowed,
Nor could she, if she would, emotion’s play enshroud.
XXII.
“Oh, Isidor’s and Blanca’s blessing fall
“From Heaven upon your heads!” she weeping cried.
At Blanca’s name the maidens kist her all,
In memory of their Armadilla’s pride.
From Contrabandist stores, the cavern wide
Embosomed, then refreshment meet they drew;