"For in the widest prison-house is misery to me,
And the stoutest heart must break unless the warrior's arm be free."
The beauty of Granada crowds Elvira's gate this night;
There are straining necks and flushing cheeks when Celin comes in sight;
And whispered tales go round the groups, and hearts indignant swell,
As they think what in Granada that hero knight befell.
Now a thousand Moorish warriors to Celin's fame aspire,
And a thousand ladies gaze on him with passionate desire.
And they talk of Adalifa, to whom he made his vow,
Though neither speech nor written page unites them longer now.