Chapter 9

By Zaide has a feast been pledged to all Granada's dames, For in his absence there had been dire lack of festive games, And, to fulfil the promise the noble man had made, He called his friends to join him in dance and serenade. There should be sport of every kind; the youths in white arrayed Were, to the ladies all unknown, to lead the camisade. And ere the radiance of dawn could tint the valley-side, The merry Moor had come abroad, his friends were at his side. He gathered round a company, they formed a joyous train; There were fifty gentlemen, the noblest names in Spain. Before the dawn they sallied forth the ladies to surprise And all that snowy gowns conceal to see with open eyes. They bound their brows with garlands of flowerets sweet and bright, In one hand each a cane-stalk bore, in one a taper white, And the clarions began to blow, and trump and Moorish horn, And whoop and shout and loud huzzas adown the street were borne. From right to left the clamor spread along the esplanade. And envious Abaicin a thousand echoes made. The startled horses galloped by, amid the people's yells; The town to its foundation shook with the jingle of their bells. Amid the crowd some run, some shout, "Stop, stop!" the elders say; Then all take order and advance to Alcazaba's way; Others from Vavataubin to Alpujarra fare, Down the street of the Gomelas or to Vivarrambla Square. Now the whole town is on its feet, from wall to towering wall They surge with shouts or flock around the tower and castle tall. The ladies who are tenderest and given most to sleep Awaken at the hubbub and from their windows peep. And there are seen dishevelled locks clasped by the lily hand; And snowy throat and bosom bare, revealed in public, stand; And in their drowsy disarray, and in their anxious fear, Each Moorish lady is surprised with many a sudden tear; And many a heart was filled that night with feverish unrest, As one tall maid looked through the pane with white and heaving breast. And many a Moorish girl was seen by revellers that night Or running in confusion or halting from affright; But no one saw fair Zaida, except by memory's sight; And Zaide in the darkness, with Muza as his guide, Hurried about the city; what a crowd was at their side! What racket, and what riot, what shout and prank and play! It would have had no end unless the sun had brought the day, And now the leading revellers mustered their ranks once more; To close the frolic with one word; "Go home; the game is o'er."

ZAIDE'S COMPLAINT

Brave Zaide paces up and down impatiently the street Where his lady from the balcony is wont her knight to greet, And he anxiously awaits the hour when she her face will show Before the open lattice and speak to him below. The Moor is filled with desperate rage, for he sees the hour is fled When day by day the dazzling ray of sunlight gilds that head, And he stops to brood in desperate mood, for her alone he yearns Can aught soothe the fire of fierce desire with which his bosom burns. At last he sees her moving with all her wonted grace, He sees her and he hastens to their old trysting-place; For as the moon when night is dark and clouds of tempest fly Rises behind the dim-lit wood and lights the midnight sky, Or like the sun when tempests with inky clouds prevail, He merges for one moment and shows his visage pale; So Zaida on her balcony in gleaming beauty stood, And the knight for a moment gazed at her and checked his angry mood. Zaide beneath the balcony with trembling heart drew near; He halted and with upward glance spoke to his lady dear: "Fair Moorish maiden, may thy life, by Allah guarded still, Bring thee the full fruition of that that thou dost will; And if the servants of thy house, the pages of my hall, Have lied about thine honor, perdition seize them all; For they come to me and murmur low and whisper in my ear That thou wishest to disown me, thy faithful cavalier; And they say that thou art pledged to one a Moor of wealth and pride, Who will take thee to his father's house and claim thee as his bride, For he has come to woo thee from the wide lands of his sire; And they say that his scimitar is keen and his heart a flame of fire. And if, fair Zaida, this is true, I kneel before thy feet Imploring thou wilt tell me true, and fling away deceit; For all the town is talking, still talking of our love, And the tongues of slander, to thy blame, to my derision move." The lady blushed, she bowed her head, then to the Moor replied: "Dear heart of mine, of all my friends the most undoubted friend, The time has come our friendship should have an early end; If all, indeed, these tidings know, as you yourself declare, Pray tell me who of all the town first laid this secret bare. For if the life that now I lead continue, I shall die. 'Tis cheered by love, but tortured by hopeless agony. God only knows why I the sport of cruel fate should be. God only knows the man who says that I am false to thee. Thou knowest well that Zaida has loved thee long and true, Tho' her ancient lineage, Moorish knight, is more than is thy due, And thou knowest well the loud expostulations of my sire. Thou knowest how my mother curses me with curses dire Because I wait for thee by day, for thee by night I wait. Tho' far thou comest in the eve, yet dost thou tarry late. They say to hush the common talk 'tis time that I be wed, And to his home by some fond Moor in bridal veil be led. Ah! many are the lovely dames, tall and of beauteous face, Who are burning in Granada to take my envied place. They look at thee with loving eyes and from the window call; And, Zaide, thou deservest well the brightest of them all, For thou thyself thine amorous eyes have turned and yet will turn Upon the Moorish maidens who for thy embraces burn." Then with dejected visage the Moor this answer made, While a thousand thoughts of sorrow his valorous breast invade: "Ah, little did I think," he said, "and little did I know That thou, my lovely Zaida, would ever treat me so; And little did I think thou wouldst have done this cruel deed And by thy changeful heart would thus have made my heart to bleed. And this for one unworthy, a man who could not claim That thou should sacrifice to him thy love, thy life, thy name. And art thou she who long ago, when evening veiled the sky, Didst say to me with tender smile from the lofty balcony, 'Zaide, I am thine own, thine own, thine own I still shall be, And thou the darling of my soul art life itself to me'?"

GUHALA'S LOVE

The bravest youth that e'er drew rein Upon Granada's flowery plain, A courteous knight, of gentle heart, Accomplished in the jouster's art; Well skilled to guide the flying steed, And noted for each warlike deed; And while his heart like steel was set When foeman in the battle met, 'Twas wax before his lady's eyes And melted at her amorous sighs; And he was like a diamond bright Amid the sword-thrusts of the fight, And in the zambra's festive hour Was gracious as the summer's flower. In speech he showed the generous mind, Where wit and wisdom were combined; And, while his words no envy woke, He weighed each sentence that he spoke. And yet his mantle was of blue, And tinged with sorrow's violet hue; For fair Guhala, Moorish maid, Her spell upon his heart had laid; And thus his cape of saffron bare The color emblem of despair; On turban and on tassel lie The tints that yield an August sky; For anxious love was in his mind; And anxious love is ever blind. With scarce a word did he forsake The lady pining for his sake; For, when the festal robe he wore, Her soul the pall of sorrow wore. And now he journeyed on his way To Jaen, for the jousting day, And to Guhala, left alone, All relic of delight was gone. Tho' the proud maid of matchless face A thousand hearts would fain embrace, She loved but one, and swiftly ran And spake her mind to Arbolan. "O Arbolan, my Moor, my own, Surely thy love is feeble grown! The least excuse can bid thee part, And tear with pain this anxious heart. Oh, that it once were granted me To mount my steed and follow thee; How wouldst thou marvel then to see That courage of true love in me, Whose pulse so feebly throbs in thee." Thus to see Arbolan depart So fills with grief Guhala's heart. The Moorish maid, while on he sped, Lies sickening on her mournful bed. Her Moorish damsels strive to know The secret of this sudden blow; They ask the cause that lays her low; They seek the sad disease to heal, Whose cause her feigning words conceal. And less, indeed, the doubling folds The Moor within his turban holds, Than are the wiles Guhala's mind In search of secrecy can find. To Zara only, whom she knows, Sole friend amid a ring of foes, The sister of her lover leal, She will the secret cause reveal. And seeking an occasion meet To tell with truth and tongue discreet, While from her eyes the tear-drops start, She opens thus her bleeding heart: "O Zara, Zara, to the end, Thou wilt remain my faithful friend. How cruel is the lot I bear, Thy brother's peril makes me fear! 'Tis for his absence that I mourn. I sicken, waiting his return!" Such were the words Guhala said. The love-lorn and afflicted maid Nor further power and utterance found, But, fainting, sank upon the ground; For strength of love had never art To fill with life a pining heart.

AZARCO OF GRANADA

Azarco left his heart behind When he from Seville passed, And winsome Celindaja As hostage held it fast. The heart which followed with the Moor Was lent him by the maid, And at their tearful parting, "Now guard it well," she said. "O light of my distracted eyes, When thou hast reached the fight, In coat of double-proof arrayed, As fits a gallant knight, Let loyal love and constancy Be thy best suit of mail, In lonely hours of absence, When faith is like to fail. The Moorish girls whom thou shalt meet Are dazzling in their grace, Of peerless wit and generous heart, And beautiful of face. These in the dance may lure thy heart To think of me no more, But none will e'er adore thee As I, thy slave, adore. For to live lonely without thee Untouched by jealous fear, Is more than my poor heart can brook, Thou art to me so dear. If e'er in festal halls thou meet Some peril to my peace, Azarco, turn thy look away, And check thine eyes' caprice. For 'tis by wandering eyes the foes Of constancy increase. May Allah and the prophet Make thy pathway safe and clear; And may one thought be thine abroad And Celindaja's here."

AZARCO REBUKED

"Draw rein, draw rein one moment, And calm thy hurrying steed, Who bounds beneath the furious spur That makes his flank to bleed. Here would I, by my grief distraught, Upon the very spot, Remind thee of the happy hours Thou, faithless, hast forgot. When thou, upon thy prancing barb, Adown this street would pace, And only at my window pause To gaze into my face. At thought of all thy cruelty A stricken slave I pine; My heart is burning since it touched That frozen breast of thine. How many pledges didst thou give, To win me for thine own! Our oaths were mutual; I am true, Whilst thou art recreant grown. My eyes, they thrilled thee yesterday, To-day thou hast no fears; For love is not alike two days Within a thousand years. I thought thy name a pledge to me Of fondest hope; no less That thou wouldst take as pledges true My kiss and soft caress. What were thy glowing words but lures Thy victim's eyes to blind? Now safe from treachery's hour I bear No rancor in my mind. But better had I known the truth, When I desired to know, And listened to thy pleading words, And read thy written vow. Nay, give me no excuses vain, For none of them I ask, Plead truth to her thou cozenest now-- They'll serve thee in the task. And if my counsel thou wilt take, Forget these eyes, this heart, Forget my grief at thy neglect-- Forget me--and depart." Thus to the Moor, Azarco, The lovely Zaida cried, And closed her lattice, overwhelmed With sorrow's rising tide. He spurred his barb and rode away, Scattering the dust behind, And cursed the star that made his heart Inconstant as the wind.

ADELIFA'S FAREWELL

Fair Adelifa tore her hair, Her cheeks were furrowed o'er with care, When brave Azarco she descried Ascending the tall galley's side. She flung the dust upon her head, She wrung her lily hands and shed Hot tears, and cursed the bitter day That bore her heart's delight away. "Thou, who my glory's captain art, And general of my bleeding heart, Guardian of every thought I know, And sharer of my lot of woe; Light that illumes my happy face, The bliss of my soul's dwelling-place; Why must thou disappear from me, Thou glass wherein myself I see? Azarco, bid me understand What is it thou dost command-- Must I remain and wait for thee? Ah, tedious will that waiting be. To war thou farest, but I fear Another war awaits thee here. Thou thinkest in some rural nest Thou'lt set me to be safe at rest. Ah, if my absence cause thee pain, My love attend thee on yon plain. Thy valiant arms' unaided might Shall win thee victory in the fight. My faith, Azarco, is thy shield; It will protect thee in the field. Thou shalt return with victory, For victory embarks with thee. But thou wilt say, Azarco dear, That women's lightness is to fear. As with armed soldiers, so you find, Each woman has a different mind. And none shall ever, without thee, Me in the dance or revel see; Nor to the concert will I roam, But stay in solitude at home. The Moorish girls shall never say I dress in robes of holiday; 'Twere vain to make the body fine Whose soul is on the sea with thine." With this Celinda came in sight, Bahata's sister tall and bright; This to an end her farewell brought, But not her dark and anxious thought.

AZARCO'S FAREWELL

"Now saddle me the silver gray, The steed of noble race, And give to me the shield of Fez, And my strong corslet lace; Give me a double-headed lance, With points of temper fine; And, with the casque of stubborn steel, That purple cap of mine. Its plumes unite the saffron's tint With heron's crest of snow, And one long spray of fluttering gray. Then give it e'er I go, And I'll put on the hood of blue That Celin's daughter fair, My Adelifa, best-beloved, Once gave to me to wear. And the square boss of metal bring, That circling boughs entwine With laurels, in whose leaves of gold The clustered emeralds shine. Adonis, hastening to the hunt, His heavenly mistress shuns, The mountain boars before him flee, And, 'Die,' the motto runs." 'Twas thus the Moor Azarco spoke, Just as the war begun, To stout Almoralife Of Baza, Zelma's son. Almoralife, brave and wise, Full many a minstrel sings, A knight who in Granada Was counted with its kings. And when they bring the boss of gold He heaves a thousand sighs O'er brave Adonis and his doom, Who by the wild boar dies. "O Adelifa, soul of mine, Rejoice, and murmur not, Up to the end be merry, When worms shall be thy lot. My day of life must needs be short, Thy firmness must be long; Although thou art a woman, Unlike thy sex, be strong. Be not like Venus, tho' in form Thou art indeed her peer, For she forgot in absence, And did to death her dear. And when alone, upon my face And likeness fix thine eyes, And none admit to do me wrong, And thy soft heart surprise. 'Twixt sadness and repining Love runs his changing way, The gay he oft makes sorrowful, The sorrowful makes gay. Then, mark, love, in my portrait mark, The wide eyes' mute appeal, For this enchanted painting Can speak and breathe and feel. Think how those eyes shed many a tear, When for thy face they yearn; And let those tears thy patience win To tarry my return." At this Galvano came to say That ship and favoring gale Awaited him, and all his host Were eager to set sail. The Moor went forth to victory, He was not pleasure's slave; His gallant heart was ever prompt To keep the pledge he gave.

CELINDA'S COURTESY

Azarco on his balcony With humble Cegri stood. He talked, and Cegri listened In a sad and listless mood; For of his own exploits he read, Writ in an open scroll, But envious Cegri heard the tale With rage and bitter dole. And thro' Elvira's gate, where spreads A prospect wide and free, He marked how Phoebus shot his rays Upon the Spanish sea; And bending to the land his eye To notice how the scene Of summer had its color changed To black from radiant green, He saw that, thro' the gate there passed A light that was not day's, Whose splendor, like a dazzling cloud, Eclipsed the solar rays. That presence changed the tint of earth, Drew off the dusky veil, And turned to living verdure The leafage of the dale. "Till now," Azarco said, "the scene Has filled my heart with pain; 'Tis freshened by Celinda's face, Or passion turns my brain. Ah, well may men her beauty praise, For its transcendent might Elates the human spirit, And fills it with delight." And as he saw her coming in, The Moor his bonnet doffed, And bowed to do her honor, And spoke in accents soft. Celinda court'sied to the ground, Such favor was not slight, Her kindly greeting gratified The fond hopes of the knight. And glad and gloomy, each in turn, For such a quick success, He checked a thousand words of love, That might his joy express. And following her with eager eyes-- "I owe thee much," said he, "Who dost reward with such a boon My merest courtesy. That favor, tho' unmerited, Sweet lady, shall remain Counted among those choicest gifts Our reckoning cannot gain. Its memory shall suffice to chase The grinding pangs of care; And softening turn the ills of life To glory's guerdon rare." On this Celinda took her leave, And vanished from his view, And, thinking proudly of her smile, Azarco straight withdrew.

GAZUL'S DESPONDENCY

Scarce half a league from Gelva the knight dismounted stood, Leaning upon his upright spear, and bitter was his mood. He thought upon Celinda's curse, and Zaida's fickle mind, "Ah, Fortune, thou to me," he cried, "hast ever proved unkind." And from his valiant bosom burst a storm of angry sighs, And acts and words of anguish before his memory rise. "Celinda's loss I count as naught, nor fear her wicked will; I were a fool, thus cursed by her, to love the lady still." In rage from out the sod he drew his spear-head, as he spoke, And in three pieces shivered it against a knotted oak. He tore away the housings that 'neath his saddle hang, He rent his lady's favor as with a lion's fang-- The silken ribbon, bright with gold, which in his crest he bore, By loved Celinda knotted there, now loved by him no more. He drew, as rage to madness turned, her portrait from his breast; He spat on it, and to that face derisive jeers addressed. "Why should I dress in robes of joy, whose heart is wounded sore, By curses, that requite so ill the duteous love I bore? Stripped as I am of every hope, 'tis better I go bare, For the black mantle of my soul is but tormenting care; I vengeance take on yonder oak, pierced by my lance's steel-- I dote, for, ah! the trees I wound, cannot, like women, feel." He took the bridle off his steed, "Roam as thou wilt," said he. "As I gave Zaida her release, I give release to thee." The swift horse galloped out of sight; in melancholy mood, The knight, unhorsed and helmetless, his lonely path pursued.

GAZUL IN LOVE

Not greater share did Mars acquire of trophies and renown, Than great Gazul took with him from Gelva's castled town; And when he to Sanlucar came his lady welcomed him, His cup of happiness at last was beaded to the brim. Alone the joyful lovers stood within a garden glade; Amid the flowers, those happy hours fled to the evening shade. With fingers deft Celinda wove a wreath, in which were set The rose's rudy petals and the scented mignonette. She plaited him a baldric, with violets circled round, For violets are for lovers, and with this his waist she bound. And then the flowery garland she tied upon his head, "Thy face is delicate and fair as Ganymede's," she said; "And if great Jove beheld thee now, he'd send his eagle down, To take thee to the palace halls that high Olympus crown." The brave Gazul his lady took and kissed her with a smile; "She could not be so fair," said he, "the girl, who by her guile Brought ruin on the Trojan realm, and set its towers afire, As thou art, lady of my heart and queen of my desire." "If I, indeed, seem fair to thee, then let the bridal rite Me and the husband of my heart for evermore unite." "Ah, mine will be the gain," he said, and kissed her with delight.

CELINDA'S INCONSTANCY