"'T is not," said Juan, "for my present doom

I mourn, but for the past;—I loved a maid:"—

He paused, and his dark eye grew full of gloom;

A single tear upon his eyelash staid

A moment, and then dropped; "but to resume,

'Tis not my present lot, as I have said,

Which I deplore so much; for I have borne

Hardships which have the hardiest overworn,