XVIII.

"'T is not," said Juan, "for my present doom I mourn, but for the past;--I loved a maid:"-- He paused, and his dark eye grew full of gloom; A single tear upon his eyelash staid A moment, and then dropped; "but to resume, 'Tis not my present lot, as I have said, Which I deplore so much; for I have borne Hardships which have the hardiest overworn,