XX. And when the streams are wrapped in gelid sheath, XXI. Visions of youth, and thou sweet vale, farewell! Scenes of my boyhood's guileless sports, adieu! How does my heart with aching rapture swell, As thus, in dreams, I tread your haunts anew. Nor will I seek these musings sweet to quell, To scare such visions from my mental view; Though Memory's glass but gives me back again Thoughts of the past, whose very bliss is pain! C. THE CAPTIVE OF ALHAMA. The story upon which the following ballad is founded, occurs in the last volume of Conde's "History of the Arabs in Spain." It is there said to be a fact:-nothing has been added, but names to the persons concerned. I. THE Moslem star was on the wane, And the haughty lord of Christian Spain Of Leon's chivalrie, Well posted on Alhama's heights, II. One morn a Moorish youth was led His escort from the field had fled, And his horse had fall'n, o'erspent ; He hung his head in speechless grief, III. "Is it a girl," Gonsalvo cries, "That in our toils is caught? That thus it weeps, in woman's guise, Where its fierce forefathers fought?" "Nay, hear my tale," exclaimed the youth, His eye one moment bright'ning, "And Allah, if I speak not truth, Consume me with his lightning! IV. "From beauteous Malaga I came, Woe, woe the luckless day! V. "If pity then, or love's sweet power, E'er touched thy gallant breast, But grant me freedom for an hour, To the oar I give the rest; These few bright moments yield in grace, My mournful fate to tell, To see once more Zorayda's face, And take my long farewell!" VI. Gonsalvo had no marble heart, He bade the Moorish youth depart, Each pass and straight the chieftain eyed, Yet sometimes turned his head, To mark how down the mountain side His captive featly sped. VII. The Sierra's dazzling peak of snow Yet blushed with rosy light, When again the grieving Moor bowed low For a damsel pressed his arm, Faint as a rose by tempests bent, And quivering with alarm. VIII. Awhile they stood in speechless gloom; She looked at him and wept; And the knights, still reckless of his doom, At length the maid unveiled her head, 66 IX. Gazúl, thy captive, Christian knight, Is here by his solemn vow ;— He was my lover yesternight, He is my husband now; Without him life to me is vain, And its sounding pageants hollow, With him I've promised to remain ; Him-him alone, I follow. X. ""Twas for me he dared, unwisely brave! The ambushed road to take; He was your foe, he is your slave, But he suffers for my sake; Ah! then, his love still let me share, To whom I've pledged my oath ; The fetters, if you will, prepare, But let them bind us both!" |