he lone abode."
Oft to the gloomy cell his steps repair, 135
While night's chill breezes wave his silver'd hair;
Oft in the tones of love, the words of peace,
He bids the bitter tears of anguish cease;
Bids drooping hope uplift her languid eyes,
And points a dearer bliss beyond the skies. 140
Yet ah, in vain his pious cares would save
The hoary suff'rer from the op'ning grave;
For deep the pangs of torture pierc'd his frame,
And sunk his wasted life's expiring flame;
To his cold lip Las Casa's hand he prest, 145
He faintly clasp'd his Zilia to his breast;
Then cried, "the God, whom now my vows adore,
"My heart thro' life obey'd, unknowing more;
"His mild forgiveness then my soul shall prove,
"His mercy share--Las Casa's God, is Love!" 150
He spoke no more--his Zilia's frantic moan
Was heard responsive to his dying groan.
"Victim of impious zeal, Las Casas cries,
"Accept departed shade, a Christian's sighs;
"And thou, soft mourner, tender, drooping form, 155
"What power shall guard thee from the fearful storm?
"Weep not for me, she cried, for Zilia's breast
"Soon in the shelt'ring earth shall find its rest.
"Hope not the victim of despair to save,
"I ask but death--I only seek a grave-- 160
"Witness thou mangled form that earth retains,
"Witness a murder'd lover's cold remains.
"I liv'd my father's pangs to sooth, to share;
"I bore to live, tho' life was all despair--
"In vain my lover, urg'd by fond desire 165
"To shield from torture, and from death my sire,
"Flew to the fane where stern Valverda rag'd,
"And fearless, with unequal force engag'd;
"I saw him bleeding, dying press the ground,
"I drew the poison from each fatal wound; 170
"I bath'd those wounds with tears--he pour'd a sigh--
"A drop hung trembling in his closing eye--
"Ah, still his mournful sign I shiv'ring hear,
"In every pulse I feel his parting tear--
"I faint--an icy coldness chills each vein, 175
"No more these feeble limbs their load sustain:
"Spirit of pity! catch my fleeting breath,
"A moment stay--and close my eyes in death--
"_Las Casas_, thee, thy God in mercy gave
"To sooth my pangs--to find the wretch a grave."-- 180
She ceas'd--her spirit fled to purer spheres--
_Las Casas_ bathes t