Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.
Skilful weaving this. The lady would not look, however, because Andella, who was about to wed another, had been false to her. Ballad literature is scarcely a record of human constancy. In Ballad-land the percentage of faithless swains, black or white, clown or knight, is a high one. Was the law regarding breach of promise first formulated by a student of ballad lore, I wonder? Whatever else it may have effected, it seems to have put an end to ballad-writing, perhaps because it ended the conditions and circumstances which went to the making of balladeering.
Zara’s Earrings
The intriguing ballad of “Zara’s Earrings” bears upon it the stamp of natural folk-song. It may come from a Moorish original, but appearances are often deceptive. In any case it is worth quoting in part.
“My earrings, my earrings, they’ve dropt into the well,
And what to say to Muça, I cannot, cannot tell.”
’Twas thus Granada’s fountain by, spoke Albuharez’ daughter.
“The well is deep, far down they lie, beneath the cold, blue water.
To me did Muça give them when he spake his sad farewell,