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CORNFLOWERS by Victor Hugo
     ("Tandis que l'étoile inodore.")

     {XXXII.}
     While bright but scentless azure stars
       Be-gem the golden corn,
     And spangle with their skyey tint
       The furrows not yet shorn;
     While still the pure white tufts of May
       Ape each a snowy ball,—
     Away, ye merry maids, and haste
       To gather ere they fall!

     Nowhere the sun of Spain outshines
       Upon a fairer town
     Than Peñafiel, or endows
       More richly farming clown;
     Nowhere a broader square reflects
       Such brilliant mansions, tall,—
     Away, ye merry maids, etc.

     Nowhere a statelier abbey rears
       Dome huger o'er a shrine,
     Though seek ye from old Rome itself
       To even Seville fine.
     Here countless pilgrims come to pray
      And promenade the Mall,—
     Away, ye merry maids, etc.

     Where glide the girls more joyfully
       Than ours who dance at dusk,
     With roses white upon their brows,
       With waists that scorn the busk?
     Mantillas elsewhere hide dull eyes—
       Compared with these, how small!
     Away, ye merry maids, etc.

     A blossom in a city lane,
       Alizia was our pride,
     And oft the blundering bee, deceived,
       Came buzzing to her side—
     But, oh! for one that felt the sting,
       And found, 'neath honey, gall—
     Away, ye merry maids, etc.

     Young, haughty, from still hotter lands,
       A stranger hither came—
     Was he a Moor or African,
       Or Murcian known to fame?
     None knew—least, she—or false or true,
       The name by which to call.
     Away, ye merry maids, etc.

     Alizia asked not his degree,
       She saw him but as Love,
     And through Xarama's vale they strayed,
       And tarried in the grove,—
     Oh! curses on that fatal eve,
       And on that leafy hall!
     Away, ye merry maids, etc.

     The darkened city breathed no more;
       The moon was mantled long,
     Till towers thrust the cloudy cloak
       Upon the steeples' throng;
     The crossway Christ, in ivy draped,
       Shrank, grieving, 'neath the pall,—
     Away, ye merry maids, etc.

     But while, alone, they kept the shade,
       The other dark-eyed dears
     Were murmuring on the stifling air
       Their jealous threats and fears;
     Alizia was so blamed, that time,
       Unheeded rang the call:
     Away, ye merry maids, etc.

     Although, above, the hawk describes
       The circle round the lark,
     It sleeps, unconscious, and our lass
       Had eyes but for her spark—
     A spark?—a sun!  'Twas Juan, King!
       Who wears our coronal,—
     Away, ye merry maids, etc.

     A love so far above one's state
       Ends sadly. Came a black
     And guarded palanquin to bear
       The girl that ne'er comes back;
     By royal writ, some nunnery
       Still shields her from us all
     Away, ye merry maids, and haste
       To gather ere they fall!

     H. L. WILLIAMS

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