For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,Brightly expressive as the twins of Loeda,Shall find her own sweet name, that, nestling liesUpon the page, enwrapped from every reader.Search narrowly the lines!—they hold a treasureDivine—a talisman—an amuletThat must be worn at heart. Search well the measure—The words—the syllables! Do not forgetThe trivialest point, or you may lose your labor!And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,If one could merely comprehend the plot.Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peeringEyes scintillating soul, there lie perdusThree eloquent words oft uttered in the hearingOf poets, by poets—as the name is a poet's, too.Its letters, although naturally lyingLike the knight Pinto—Mendez Ferdinando—Still form a synonym for Truth—Cease trying!You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.