VIII.

Yet sighs one more for Isidora’s charms; Love’s treasure seldom without Envy shines. And even when Carlos clasps her in his arms In visioned bliss, another secret pines. Fate scowling terrible his bulwark mines, And comes the blow from evilest-omened hand. Nor Carlos nor his rival yet divines Their mutual secret. Blindfold thus they stand, Till Hate in anguished hour whirls high his flaming brand.