She caught that grace and beauty's air.

"Iola!" said Gonzalo, "far
Where shines yon lovely evening star,
Sings many a gay and loving maid,
Beneath the cooling olive shade.
Their brows are whiter, too, than thine,
But yet none to me are so divine,
As thine, fair maid of dark Peru,
With heart like its Volcanoes too.
E'er since I landed on those shores,
Of endless spring, and brightest ores,
I have not thought of ought but thee,
Ne'er can my bosom now be free.
List! sweet Iola! am I vain?
I deem thou lovest we well again;
For, when I sought thy downcast eyes,
They met mine with a glad surprise;
And when I spake to thee full low,
Thy voice was like a fountain's flow,
So softly sweet, so lulling, too,
It bathed my soul in rapture's dew.
Iola! sure I love thee well,
And if thou wilt thy father tell,
I deem he will not eye me ill,
Whose love is with his daughter still."
Iola raised her glance to heaven,
Then to Gonzalo, darting, even
Her soul, into his own, and said;
"This soil with blood was never red;