With instinct’s fatal truth and frenzy’s lore,
The lilies planted o’er the new-raised mound,
That hid the Vascon lily, Isidor!
And as some mariner a rock-bound shore
Doth find in shipwreck, where his limbs are cast
And dashed to pieces with the saving oar,
So baleful was this sight of earth that passed
Before Beltrán’s red eyes, and like to prove their last!
XXXVII.
With nerves mad-strung he knelt upon the sod,