Ah! many were the triumphs that from Zara's hands I bore,
When in the joust or in the dance she smiled on me of yore.
And now, while equal fortune incessantly I chase,
Naught can I gather from thy hand but disaster and disgrace.
Since King Fernando brought his host fair Baza to blockade,
My lot has been a wretched lot of anguish unalloyed.
Yet was Fernando kind to me with all his kingly art,
He won my body to his arms, he could not win my heart."
While thus he spoke the mantle that he wore he cast away;
'Twas green, 'twas striped with red and white, 'twas lined with dismal gray.