“Reduan, I but lately heard
From thy mouth the sounding word,
That for me the town of Jaen
In one night thou wouldst obtain;
Reduan, if thou do the same,
Double pay thou mayest claim;
Save thy word perform’d I see,
From Granada thou shalt flee,
Banish’d to a far frontier,
Where thy lady shall not cheer.”
Reduan, at the Monarch’s side,
With unalter’d mien replied:
“Though the word I never said,
It I’ll do, or lose my head.”
Reduan crav’d one thousand men—
Five the Monarch gave him then.
From Elvira’s portal-arch
See the cavalcado march:
Many a Moor of birth was there,
Many a bay, high-blooded mare,
Many a lance in fist of might,
Many a buckler beaming bright,
Many a green marlote is spied,
Many a ren aljube beside,
Many a plume of gallant air,
Many a rich-grain’d cappellare,
Many a boot a-borzegui,
Many a silken string and tie,
Many a spur of gold there clung,
Many a silver stirrup swung.
All the men that rode that day
Were expert at battle-fray:
Midst of all that pomp and pow’r
Chyquo Monarch of the Moor.
Moorish dames and maidens high
Them from proud Alhambra eye;
And the Moorish Queen so grey
In this guise was heard to say:
“Speed thee hence my son and love!
Mahomet thy Guardian prove!
Crown’d with honor back from Jaen
May he bring thee soon again.”
THE FORSAKEN.
From the Spanish.
Up I rose, O mother, early
On the blest Saint Juan’s morn;
By the sea I saw a damsel,
Saw a damsel all forlorn.
Lonely there she wash’d her garments
And upon a rose-tree hung;
Whilst the garments there were drying
She a plaintiff ditty sung.
“O my love, my fickle lover—
Where to find him shall I stray?”
Up and down the strand she hurried
Singing, singing this sad lay.
In her hand a comb she carried,
All of gold, to comb her hair;
“Tell me, tell me, gentle sailor—
Heaven take thee ’neath it’s care—
Hast thou seen my fickle lover,
Hast thou seen him any where?”
STANZAS.
From the Portuguese.
A fool is he who in the lap
Basking of every smiling joy,
Will each and all with fear alloy
Of what some future day may hap.