Beneath the wild boar's cruel tusk.
A wintry dawn on pallid skies,
A summer's day that turns to dusk.
A lovely garden green and fair
Ravaged and slashed by strokes of steel;
Or wasted in its trim parterres
And trampled by the common heel.
So spake the brave heart-broken Moor;
Until his tears and struggling sighs
Turned to fierce rage; the painting then