Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/357

Rh And then he hears, funereal roll Between each pause, those accents high, "Your alms, for prayers to rest the soul Of him condemned to die." He cursed them all, as one by one The impious echo3 each expressed; He cursed the mother as a son Who nursed him at her breast: The whole world round alike he cursed, His evil destiny forlorn, And the dark day and hour when first That wretched he was born.

The moon serene illumes the skies, And earth in deepest stillness lies; No sound is heard, the watchdog's mute, And ev'n the lover's plaintive lute. Madrid enveloped lies in sleep; Repose o'er all its shade has cast, And men of him no memory keep Who soon will breathe his last.