THE MOORISH King rides up and down | |
| Through Granadas royal town; | |
| From Elviras gates to those | |
| Of Bivarambla on he goes. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 5 |
| |
| Letters to the monarch tell | |
| How Alhamas city fell: | |
| In the fire the scroll he threw, | |
| And the messenger he slew. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 10 |
| |
| He quits his mule, and mounts his horse, | |
| And through the street directs his course; | |
| Through the street of Zacatin | |
| To the Alhambra spurring in. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 15 |
| |
| When the Alhambra walls he gained, | |
| On the moment he ordained | |
| That the trumpet straight should sound | |
| With the silver clarion round. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 20 |
| |
| And when the hollow drums of war | |
| Beat the loud alarm afar, | |
| That the Moors of town and plain | |
| Might answer to the martial strain; | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 25 |
| |
| Then the Moors, by this aware | |
| That bloody Mars recalled them there, | |
| One by one, and two by two, | |
| To a mighty squadron grew. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 30 |
| |
| Out then spake an aged Moor | |
| In these words the king before, | |
| Wherefore call on us, O King? | |
| What may mean this gathering? | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 35 |
| |
| Friends! ye have, alas, to know | |
| Of a most disastrous blow, | |
| That the Christians, stern and bold, | |
| Have obtained Alhamas hold. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 40 |
| |
| Out then spake old Alfaqui, | |
| With his beard so white to see, | |
| Good King! thou art justly served, | |
| Good King! this thou hast deserved. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 45 |
| |
| By thee were slain, in evil hour, | |
| The Abencerrage, Granadas flower; | |
| And strangers were received by thee | |
| Of Cordova, the Chivalry. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 50 |
| |
| And for this, O King! is sent | |
| On thee a double chastisement; | |
| Thee and thine, thy crown and realm, | |
| One last wreck shall overwhelm. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 55 |
| |
| He who holds no laws in awe, | |
| He must perish by the law; | |
| And Granada must be won, | |
| And thyself with her undone. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 60 |
| |
| Fire flashed from out the old Moors eyes, | |
| The monarchs wrath began to rise | |
| Because be answered, and because | |
| He spake exceeding well of laws. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 65 |
| |
| There is no law to say such things | |
| As may disgust the ear of kings, | |
| Thus, snorting with his choler, said | |
| The Moorish king, and doomed him dead. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 70 |
| |
| Moor Alfaqui! Moor Alfaqui! | |
| Though thy beard so hoary be, | |
| The king hath sent to have thee seized, | |
| For Alhamas loss displeased. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 75 |
| |
| And to fix thy head upon | |
| High Alhambras loftiest stone; | |
| That this for thee should be the law, | |
| And others tremble when they saw. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 80 |
| |
| Cavalier, and man of worth! | |
| Let these words of mine go forth; | |
| Let the Moorish monarch know | |
| That to him I nothing owe. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 85 |
| |
| But on my soul Alhama weighs, | |
| And on my inmost spirit preys; | |
| And if the king his land hath lost, | |
| Yet others may have lost the most. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 90 |
| |
| Sires have lost their children, wives | |
| Their lords, and valiant men their lives; | |
| One what best his love might claim | |
| Hath lost, another wealth or fame. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 95 |
| |
| I lost a damsel in that hour, | |
| Of all the land the loveliest flower; | |
| Doubloons a hundred I would pay, | |
| And think her ransom cheap that day. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 100 |
| |
| And as these things the old Moor said, | |
| They severed from the trunk his head; | |
| And to the Alhambras wall with speed | |
| T was carried, as the king decreed. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 105 |
| |
| And men and infants therein weep | |
| Their loss, so heavy and so deep; | |
| Granadas ladies, all she rears | |
| Within her walls, burst into tears. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 110 |
| |
| And from the windows oer the walls | |
| The sable web of mourning falls; | |
| The king weeps as a woman oer | |
| His loss, for it is much and sore. | |
| Woe is me, Alhama! | 115 |
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