The cloister wall, like towering battlement,
Sierra’s frowning range rich colors donned
From ling’ring Day-Star’s robe; and brilliant hues
Floated like banners on palatial clouds.
Light floods the river, parts its mist-like shrouds;
Each ripple soft, prismatic gleams transfuse.
Below Avila lay; its cross-lit spires
Blended their even-chime with seraph lyres;
O’er mount and vale pealed out their call to prayer,
And stole with joy upon the list’ning air.