IX.

One villain seized the gentle Ana’s arm, And dragged her to the bowering vineyard near; With cruel irony, “lest aught of harm,” He said, “should chance to reach your sister dear, “I’ll take my carbine with me,”--for with fear He marked the flashing wrath in Blanca’s eye; Then o’er his shoulder with this parting jeer He sought to rouse his comrade: “Jules, good b’ye; “The dove you think you’ve caught may like a falcon fly.”