Gemmed saddle-cloth and armor were blinding to the gaze,
And burnished lance and scimetar flashed back the sunbeam’s blaze,
While prancing in the van, as if their nostrils scented gore,
The milk-white steeds of Yemen, king, sheick and emir bore.
When fled that martial pageant, like vapor on the gale,
Woke on the banks of Darro a startling voice of wail,
And tones so full of sweetness and wild, despairing wo,
Were never heard by listening ear from mortal lips to flow.
LAMENT FOR GRENADA.
LAMENT FOR GRENADA.