I lost a damsel in that hour, Of all the land the loveliest flower; Doubloons a hundred I would pay, And think her ransom cheap that day.’ Woe is me, Alhama!
And as these things the old Moor said, They severed from the trunk his head; And to the Alhambra's wall with speed 'Twas carried, as the King decreed. Woe is me, Alhama!
And men and infants therein weep Their loss, so heavy and so deep; Granada's ladies, all she rears Within her walls, burst into tears. Woe is me, Alhama!
And from the windows o'er the walls The sable web of mourning falls; The King weeps as a woman o'er His loss, for it is much and sore. Woe is me, Alhama!
Byron.
[LXXV]
FRIENDSHIP
My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea; But, before I go, Tom Moore, Here's a double health to thee!
Here's a sigh to those who love me, And a smile to those who hate; And, whatever sky's above me, Here's a heart for every fate.
Though the ocean roar around me, Yet it still shall bear me on; Though a desert should surround me, It hath springs that may be won.
Were 't the last drop in the well, As I gasped upon the brink, Ere my fainting spirit fell, 'Tis to thee that I would drink.