He came to see great Baza, where he in former days
Had won from Zara's father that aged warrior's praise.
The Moor gazed on that fortress strong, the towers all desolate,
The castle high that touched the sky, the rampart and the gate.
The ruined hold he greeted, it seemed its native land,
For there his bliss had been complete while Zara held his hand.
And Fortune's cruel fickleness he furiously reviled,
For his heart sent madness to his brain and all his words were wild.
"O goddess who controllest on earth our human fate,
How is it I offend thee, that my life is desolate?