A LEGEND OF MADRID 



[translated from the Spanish] 



Francesca 



Crush't and throng'd are all the places 



In our amphitheatre, 

 'Midst a sea of swarming faces 



I can yet distinguish her ; 

 Dost thou triumph, dark-brow'd Nina? 



Is my secret known to thee ? 

 On the sands of yon arena 



I shall yet my vengeance see. 

 Now through portals fast careering 

 Picadors are disappearing ; 

 Now the barriers nimbly clearing 



Has the hindmost chulo flown. 

 Clots of dusty crimson streaking. 

 Brindled flanks and haunches reeking, 

 Wheels the wild bull, vengeance seeking, 



On the matador alone. 

 Features by sombrero shaded. 



Pale and passionless and cold ; 

 Doublet richly laced and braided, 



Trunks of velvet slash'd with gold, 

 Blood-red scarf, and bare Toledo, — 

 Mask more subtle, and disguise 

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