XXXVI.

Mourn, San Sebastian, for the beauty blighted Of her your angel-child in by-gone years. Your eyes no more shall by her charms delighted Recal celestial dreams to chase your fears. And, Isidora too, be shed thy tears, Or hoarded for thyself whom danger girds. Thy foster-sister memory now endears Alone, with thought of gentle deeds and words. For ye were severed long, poor caged and sundered birds!