Canto II.

nos iua?t.

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C’XLVITI.

And slic bent o’er liim, anil he lay beneath,

Hush’d as the babe upon its mother’s breast,Droop’d as the willow when aio winds can breathe,Lull'd like the depth of ocean when at rest,Fair as the crowning rose of the whole wreath,Soft as the callow cygnet in its nest;

In sliortj he was a very pretty fellow,

Although his woes had turn’d him rather yellow.

CXL1X.

He woke and gazed, and would have slept again,But the fair face which met his eyes iorbadeThose eyes to close, though weariness and painHad further sleep a further pleasure made;For woqian’s face was never form’d in vainFor Juan, so that even when he pray’dHe turn’d frow grisly saints, and martyrs hairy,To the sweet portraits of the Virgin Mary .

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