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Translated by J. Bowring
NOW appears the star of Venus, | |
| Sol’s last ray the mountain gilds, | |
| While the night, in dusky mantle, | |
| Travels o’er the darkening fields. | |
| See yon Moorish warrior flying | 5 |
| From Sidonia’s open gate, | |
| Near the sunny banks of Xerez, | |
| Fierce and proud, but desolate. | |
| By the stream of Guadalete, | |
| To that port of splendid fame, | 10 |
| Honored by far distant ages | |
| With Our Lady’s blessed name. | |
| He is born of lineage noble, | |
| All his sires of high degree, | |
| But his once-loved maid has left him, | 15 |
| Taunting him with poverty. | |
| Faithless fair one! and this evening | |
| She has pledged her recreant hand | |
| To proud Seville’s base alcalde, | |
| Dignified with high command. | 20 |
| To the careless winds of heaven, | |
| To the rocks and woods he cries; | |
| Naught but pitying Echo hears him,— | |
| Pitying Echo still replies. | |
| “Zayde! Zayde! far more cruel | 25 |
| Than the wreck-absorbing wave; | |
| Harder than the hardest mountain, | |
| Whose old feet the waters lave; | |
| Tell me, cruel maiden! tell me | |
| Shall the charms that once were mine | 30 |
| Be devoted to another? | |
| Wilt thou call another thine? | |
| Wilt thou twine thy youthful tendrils | |
| Round a proud and rugged tree, | |
| Leaving mine all stripped and blasted; | 35 |
| Flowerless, fruitless, left by thee?” | |
| He, thy choice, is poor, though wealthy,— | |
| Him whom thou fleest rich, though poor: | |
| Hast thou learnt than wealth of spirit | |
| Wealth of clay to value more? | 40 |
| Wilt thou then Gazul abandon, | |
| Six sweet years of love now flown, | |
| For this treacherous Albenzayde, | |
| For this stranger all unknown? * * * * * | |
| Thus he spoke; and straight to Xerez, | 45 |
| Full of madness, sped along, | |
| And he finds the alcalde’s palace | |
| Bright with torches, gay with song. | |
| There a thousand lamps are burning, | |
| Thousand voices shouting there; | 50 |
| All is gayety and gladness,— | |
| What does this intruder here? | |
| He his trusty steed has mounted, | |
| To the bridegroom swift he hies, | |
| And the crowds make way before him, | 55 |
| While he pays his courtesies. | |
| Ha! his bloody lance has traversed | |
| The alcalde’s fluttering breast, | |
| And his life-blood now is flowing, | |
| Flowing through his purple vest. | 60 |
| O, what horror! what confusion, | |
| Desolation, and dismay! | |
| While the stern, unnoticed murderer | |
| To Medina takes his way. | |
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