Part 10

And thus he speaks: “I pray, my lord, that none but I may go: For I made promise to the queen, your consort, long ago, That ere the war should have an end, I, for her royal charms, And for my duty to her grace, would show some feat of arms!”

Much joy’d the king these words to hear--he bids Alonzo speed; And long before the revel’s o’er the knight is on his steed; Alonzo’s on his milk-white steed, with horsemen in his train, A thousand horse, a chosen band, ere dawn the hills to gain.

They ride along the darkling ways, they gallop thro’ the night; They reach Nevada ere the cock hath harbinger’d the light; But ere they’ve climb’d that steep ravine, the east is glowing red, And the Moors their lances bright have seen, and Christian banners spread.

Beyond the sands, between the rocks, where the old cork-trees grow, The path is rough, and mounted men must singly march and slow; There, o’er the path, the heathen range their ambuscado’s line, High up they wait for Aguilar, as the day begins to shine.

There, nought avails the eagle-eye, the guardian of Castile, The eye of wisdom, nor the heart that fear might never feel, The arm of strength, that wielded well the strong mace in the fray, Nor the broad plate, from whence the edge of faulchion glanced away.

Not knightly valour there avails, nor skill of horse and spear; For rock on rock comes rumbling down from cliff and cavern drear; Down--down like driving hail they come, and horse and horsemen die; Like cattle whose despair is dumb when the fierce lightnings fly.

Alonzo, with a handful more, escapes into the field, There, like a lion, stands at bay, in vain besought to yield; A thousand foes around are seen, but none draw near to fight; Afar, with bolt and javelin, they pierce the steadfast knight.

A hundred and a hundred darts are hissing round his head; Had Aguilar a thousand hearts, their blood had all been shed; Faint, and more faint, he staggers upon the slippery sod, At last his back is to the earth, he gives his soul to God!

With that the Moors plucked up their hearts to gaze upon his face, And caitiffs mangled where he lay the scourge of Afric’s race; To woody Oxijera then the gallant corpse they drew, And there, upon the village green, they laid him out to view.

Upon the village-green he lay, as the moon was shining clear, And all the village damsels to look on him drew near; They stood around him all a-gaze, beside a big oak-tree, And much his beauty they did praise, tho’ mangled sore was he. Now, so it fell, a Christian dame, that knew Alonzo well, Not far from Oxijera did as a captive dwell, And hearing all the marvels, across the woods came she, To look upon this Christian corpse, and wash it decently.

She look’d upon him, and she knew the face of Aguilar, Although his beauty was defac’d with many a ghastly scar, She knew him, and she cursed the dogs that pierced him from afar, And mangled him when he was slain--the Moors of Alpujar.

The Moorish maidens, while she spake, around her silence kept, But her master dragged the dame away--then loud and long they wept; They washed the blood, with many a tear, from dint of dart and arrow, And buried him near the waters clear of the brook of Alpujarra.

THE BULL-FIGHT OF GAZUL.

Gazul is the name of one of the Moorish heroes who figure in the “_Historia de las Guerras Civiles de Granada_.” The following is one of many ballads in which the dexterity of Moorish cavaliers in the Bull-fight is described. The reader will observe that the shape, activity, and resolution of the animal destined to furnish the amusement of the spectators, are enlarged upon, just as the qualities of a modern racehorse might be amongst ourselves--nor is the bull without his name. The day of the Baptist is a festival of the Mussulmans, as well as amongst Christians:

King Almanzor of Granada, he hath bid the trumpet sound, He hath summon’d all the Moorish lords, from the hills and plains around; From Vega and Sierra, from Betis and Xenil, They have come with helm and cuirass of gold and twisted steel.

’Tis the holy Baptist’s feast they hold in royalty and state, And they have closed the spacious lists, beside the Alhambra’s gate; In gowns of black with silver laced, within the tented ring, Eight Moors to fight the bull are placed, in presence of the King.

Eight Moorish lords of valour tried, with stalwart arm and true, The onset of the beasts abide, as they come rushing through; The deeds they’ve done, the spoils they’ve won, fill all with hope and trust Yet, ’ere high in heaven appears the sun, they all have bit the dust!

Then sounds the trumpet clearly, then clangs the loud tambour, Make room, make room for Gazul!--throw wide, throw wide the door! Blow, blow the trumpet clearer still! more loudly strike the drum! The Alcaydé of Algava to fight the bull doth come.

And first before the King he passed, with reverence stooping low, And next he bowed him to the Queen and th’ Infantas all a-rowe; Then to his lady’s grace he turned, and she to him did throw A scarf from out her balcony was whiter than the snow.

With the life-blood of the slaughtered lords all slippery is the sand, Yet proudly in the centre hath Gazul ta’en his stand; And ladies look with heaving breast, and lords with anxious eye, But firmly he extends his arm--his look is calm and high.

Three bulls against the knight are loosed, and two come roaring on, He rises high in stirrup, forth stretching his rejón; Each furious beast upon the breast he deals him such a blow, He blindly totters and gives back across the sand to go.

“Turn, Gazul, turn!” the people cry: the third comes up behind, Low to the sand his head holds he, his nostrils snuff the wind; The mountaineers that lead the steers without stand whispering low, “Now thinks this proud Alcaydé to stun _Harpado_ so?”

From Guadiana comes he not, he comes not from Xenil, From Gaudalarif of the plain, or Barves of the hill; But where from out the forest burst Xarama’s waters clear, Beneath the oak-trees was he nursed, this proud and stately steer.

Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil, And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil. His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow; But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe.

Upon the forehead of the bull the horns stand close and near, From out the broad and wrinkled skull like daggers they appear; His neck is massy, like the trunk of some old knotted tree, Whereon the monster’s shaggy mane, like billows curled, ye see,

His legs are short, his hams are thick, his hoofs are black as night, Like a strong flail he holds his tail in fierceness of his might; Like something molten out of iron, or hewn from forth the rock, _Harpado_ of Xarama stands, to bide the Alcaydé’s shock.

Now stops the drum; close, close they come; thrice meet, and thrice give back; The white foam of _Harpado_ lies on the charger’s breast of black; The white foam of the charger on _Harpado’s_ front of dun; Once more advance upon his lance--once more, thou fearless one!

Once more, once more! in dust and gore to ruin must thou reel! In vain, in vain thou tearest the sand with furious heel! In vain, in vain, thou noble beast! I see, I see thee stagger, Now keen and cold thy neck must hold the stern Alcaydé’s dagger!

They have slipped a noose around his feet, six horses are brought in, And away they drag _Harpado_ with a loud and joyful din; Now stoop thee, lady, from thy stand, and the ring of price bestow, Upon Gazul of Algava, that hath laid _Harpado_ low.

THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA.

The following exquisitely tender ballad has been often imitated by modern poets:

“Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town! From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing, And the dulcet lute doth speak between the trumpet’s lordly blowing; And banners bright from lattice light are waving everywhere, And the tall, tall plume of our cousin’s bridegroom floats proudly in the air; Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down: Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!

“Arise, arise Xarifa! I see Andalla’s face-- He bends him to the people with a calm and princely grace; Through all the land of Xeres and banks of Guadalquivir, Rode forth bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely never,

Yon tall plume waving o’er his brow, of purple mixed with white, I guess ’twas wreathed by Zara, whom he will wed to-night:-- Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down: Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!

“What aileth thee, Xarifa? what makes thine eyes look down? Why stay ye from the window far, nor gaze with all the town? I’ve heard you say on many a day, and sure you said the truth, Andalla rides without a peer, ’mong all Granada’s youth; Without a peer he rideth, and yon milk-white horse doth go Beneath his stately master, with a stately step and slow:-- Then rise, oh! rise, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down; Unseen here through the lattice, you may gaze with all the town!”

The Zegri lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down, Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the town; But though her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers strove, And though her needle press’d the silk, no flower Xarifa wove; One bonny rosebud she had traced, before the noise drew nigh; That bonny bud a tear effaced, slow drooping from her eye. “No, no!” she sighs; “bid me not rise, nor lay my cushion down, To gaze upon Andalla with all the gazing town!”

“Why rise ye not, Xarifa? nor lay your cushion down? Why gaze ye not, Xarifa, with all the gazing town? Hear, hear the trumpet, how it swells, and how the people cry! He steps at Zara’s palace-gate--why sit ye still?--oh, why?”

“At Zara’s gate stops Zara’s mate; in him shall I discover The dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and was my lover? I will not rise, with weary eyes, nor lay my cushion down, To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing town!”

ZARA’S EAR-RINGS.

“My ear-rings! my ear-rings! they’ve dropped into the well, And what to say to Músa, I cannot, cannot tell;” ’Twas thus, Granada’s fountain by, spoke Albuharez’ daughter-- “The well is deep--far down they lie, beneath the cold blue water; To me did Músa give them, when he spake his sad farewell, And what to say when he comes back, alas! I cannot tell.

“My ear-rings! my ear-rings!--they were pearls, in silver set, That, when my Moor was far away, I ne’er should him forget; That I ne’er to another tongue should list, nor smile on other’s tale, But remember he my lips had kissed, pure as those ear-rings pale, When he comes back, and hears that I have dropped them in the well, Oh! what will Músa think of me!--I cannot, cannot tell!

“My ear-rings! my ear-rings!--he’ll say they should have been, Not of pearl and of silver, but of gold and glittering sheen, Of jasper and of onyx, and of diamond shining clear, Changing to the changing light, with radiance insincere; That changeful mind unchanging gems are not befitting well; Thus will he think--and what to say, alas! I cannot tell.

“He’ll think, when I to market went, I loitered by the way; He’ll think a willing ear I lent to all the lads might say; He’ll think some other lover’s hand among my tresses noosed, From the ears where he had placed them my rings of pearl unloosed; He’ll think, when I was sporting so beside this marble well, My pearls fell in--and what to say, alas! I cannot tell.

“He’ll say, I am a woman, and we are all the same; He’ll say, I loved, when he was here, to whisper of his flame, But, when he went to Tunis, my virgin troth had broken, And thought no more of Músa, and cared not for his token. My ear-rings! my ear-rings! oh, luckless, luckless well! For what to say to Músa, alas! I cannot tell.

“I’ll tell the truth to Músa--and I hope he will believe, That I thought of him at morning, and thought of him at eve: That, musing on my lover, when down the sun was gone, His ear-rings in my hand I held, by the fountain all alone; And that my mind was o’er the sea, when from my hand they fell, And that deep his love lies near my heart, as they lie in the well!”

THE LAMENTATION FOR CELIN.

At the gate of old Granada, when all its bolts are barred, At twilight, at the Vega-gate, there is a trampling heard; There is a trampling heard, as of horses treading slow, And a weeping voice of women, and a heavy sound of woe! “What tower is fallen, what star is set, what chief comes here bewailing?” “A tower is fallen, a star is set!--Alas! alas for Celin!” Three times they knock, three times they cry, and wide the doors they throw; Dejectedly they enter, and mournfully they go; In gloomy lines they mustering stand, beneath the hollow porch, Each horseman grasping in his hand a black and flaming torch; Wet is each eye as they go by, and all around is wailing, For all have heard the misery.--Alas! alas for Celin!

Him, yesterday, a Moor did slay, of Ben-cerraji’s blood-- ’Twas at the solemn jousting--around the nobles stood; The nobles of the land were by, and ladies bright and fair Looked from their latticed windows, the haughty sight to share; But now the nobles all lament--the ladies are bewailing-- He was Granada’s darling knight.--Alas! alas for Celin!

Before him ride his vassals, in order two by two, With ashes on their turbans spread, most pitiful to view; Behind him his four sisters, each wrapped in sable veil, Between the tambour’s dismal strokes take up their doleful tale; When stops the muffled drum, ye hear their brotherless bewailing, And all the people, far and near, cry--“Alas! alas for Celin!”

Oh! lovely lies he on the bier, above the purple pall, The flower of all Granada’s youth, the loveliest of them all: His dark, dark eyes are closed, his rosy lip is pale, The crust of blood lies black and dim upon his burnished mail; And evermore the hoarse tambour breaks in upon their wailing, Its sound is like no earthly sound--Alas! alas for Celin!

The Moorish maid at the lattice stands, the Moor stands at his door; One maid is wringing of her hands, and one is weeping sore; Down to the dust men bow their heads, and ashes black they strew Upon their broidered garments, of crimson, green, and blue; Before each gate the bier stands still, then bursts the loud bewailing, From door and lattice high and low--“Alas! alas for Celin!”

An old, old woman cometh forth, when she hears the people cry-- Her hair is white as silver, like horn her glazing eye: ’Twas she that nursed him at her breast--that nursed him long ago; She knows not whom they all lament, but soon she well shall know! With one deep shriek, she thro’ doth break, when her ears receive their wailing, “Let me kiss my Celin ere I die.--Alas! alas for Celin!”

Index.

Frontispiece

Dedication

Preface, v., vii.

Preface To Second Edition

Introduction, xxv.-liv.

Abencerrages, 10, 103-112, 149, 150

Abou Hud, 22

Abu-l-hasen, King of Granada (father of Boabdil), 10, 14, 17, 18

Abu’ Abdillah (Boabdil), 10, 17, 18, 107, 108, 422

Acequia Court, 414.

Alcarraza, xxxvi.

Alcazába, xxxv.

Alfonso XIII., King of Spain, xxxi., 21

Alfonso the Wise, 449

Algibes, xxxv.

Alhama, 108

Alhambra:--Album, ix.; Begun, 26; Completed, 32; Diagrams of Principle of Ornament, xlv.; Exterior, 4; Fire in the Hall of the Barque, viii.; Frets, xli., xlii.; Courts, Halls, and Towers of, 35; Inscriptions, Mosaics, and Panels, xxxv., xxxvi.; Miscellaneous Ornament, xlvii.; Museum in the, 352-356; Ornament, xli.; Pavements, xxxix., xl.; Vases, 77, 95, 99; Views of, 3, 5, 7. _See_ also “List of Illustrations” in front of volume

Al-makkarí, xxx., xxxi., 439

Alonzo X., 26

Alonzo de Valiza, 401

Alonzo XI., 30, 31

Ambassadors, Hall of, 28, 244-304

“Andalus,” Etymology of, xxxi.

Andalusians, Superiority of, xxx.

_Antigüedades Arabes de España_, 20

Appendix, 449

Ayeshah, 10

Azulejo Tiles, xxxix.

Bacon, Lord, 13

Bádís Ibn Hábus, 430

Ballads:--Moresco-Spanish, 449; The Flight from Granada, 451, 452; The Death of Don Alonzo de Aguilar, 453, 455; The Bull-Fight of Gazul, 455, 457; The Bridal of Andalla, 457, 458; Zara’s Ear-rings, 458, 459; The Lamentation for Celin, 459, 460

Barnardo del Carpio, 450

Barque, Hall of the, 244

Bas-relief, 355

Baths, The, 28, 31, 324-327

Boabdil, _see_ Abu’ Abdillah

Cabra, Count of, 17

Campotejar, Marquis of, 422

Casa del Carbon, 430, 439

Casa del Gallo de Viento, 430

Casa Sanchez, 439

Casa Real, the Spanish name for the Alhambra, xxxii.

Cathedral of Granada, 13

Charcoal, House of, 430, 439

Charles V., xxxv., 19, 356, 364

Charles Martel, 2

Cid, The, “el Campeador,” 450

Cisterns, Place of the, xxxv., 356

Colours employed by the Moors, liii.

Columbus, 13

Contreras, Don Mariano, viii., xxxii.

Contreras, Don Raphaël, viii., ix., xxxii.

Conveyancing, Curious practice of, 401

Coppeé, Henry, xl.

Córdova, 4, 17

Cuarto Real, _see_ Generalife

D’Abrantes, Duke, 439

Darro, 10, 414

De Solis, Isabel, 8, 9

Dolgorouki, Prince, vii.

Dozy, Professor, ix., xxx., xl.

Elizabeth of Parma, 19, 335

English Elms at Granada, 35

Ez-zaghal, 10, 18

Ferdinand, the Saint, 23, 24, 26

Ferdinand VII., 35

Ferdinand and Isabella, 10, 13, 17, 18, 19, 422

Fernando of Talavera, Archbishop of Granada, 14

Fish-pond, Court of the, xxxv., 28, 32, 150, 191, 192, 195

Ford, Richard, ix., 13, 35, 401

Gayángos, Don Pascual de, ix., xxx., xxxi., xl., 323

Geb-al-Tárik, 1, 5

Generalife, The, 401, 402, 414, 422, 429, 430, 439

Gibraltar, 1

Gold Coin of Mohammed I., 20, 21

Gonzalez, Fernan, of Castile, 450

Goury, Jules, xlv., lv., 48

Granada, xxix., 2, 4, 6, 9, 15, 414

Guadix, 408, 413

Homage Tower, 352

Ibnu Battútah, xxviii.

Ibnu-l-khattib, xxviii., xxix., 402, 413

Illustrations, List of, xi.-xix.

Illustrations, List of coloured, xxii.-xxv.

Irving, Washington, ix., xl., 7, 19, 37, 331, 335, 364

Isabella and Ferdinand, 10, 13, 17, 18, 19

Isabel de Solis, “The Captive,” 8, 9, 11

Isma’il-Ibn-Faraj, 402

Jaen, 23

James the Conqueror, 23

Jennatu-l-’arif, _see_ Generalife

Jones, Owen, viii., xliv., lv.

Justice, Gate of, xxxv., 28, 29, 36, 37, 38

Justice, Hall of, 38, 41, 42, 47, 48, 65

Katherine of Aragon, 13, 38

Ladies’ Tower, 352

Lane-Poole, Stanley, ix.

Lerma, Duke of, 6

Lewis, John F., viii.

“Lindaraja,” 67, 71, 328, 329

Lions, Court of the, 195-244

Lockhart, J. G., 449-460

Lucena, 10, 17

Macafreto, 401

Machuca, Pedro, 364

Malaga, 18, 29, 414

Martos, 10

Mint within the Alhambra, 20

Mohammed I., xxvii., 20, 21, 22, 24, 25, 27, 51

Mohammed V., xxvii., 402, 407, 408, 413

Mohammed VI., 408, 413, 414

Mohammed XII. (Ez-zaghal), 10, 18

Moorish Ornament, xli.-liii.

Moors, Final Expulsion of the, 5

“Morning Star,” 10

Mosque, The, 49, 304-324

Motto of Mohammed I. and his successors, 25, 51

Muhammed Hayat Khan, xli.

Muley Hasen, _see_ Abu-l-hasen, King of Granada

Murphy, J. C., viii., lv.

Musa, 5, and foot-note

Museum of the Alhambra, 352, 356; Bas-relief, 355; Vase, 77, 95

Pedro I., 408, 413, 414

Peninsular War, 19

Peyron, Mr., 422

Philip of Castile, 27

Philip III., 6

Philip V., 19, 335

Queen’s Dressing-room, 331

Saint Ferdinand, Academy of, 20

Sanchez, House of, 439

Salado, Battle of, 29

Seville, 4, 24, 26

Silla del Moro, 422

Swinburne, Henry, 422

Tablada, 413

“Tanto Monta,” lv.

Tarif, 1

Tárik, 1, 5

Tendilla, Count of, 14, 17

Tours, 1

Tower of “The Captive,” 351, 352

Tower of Comares, 336, _see_ Hall of Ambassadors

Tower of the Infantas, 351, 352

Tower of the Peaks, 336, 414

Tower of the Seven Stages, 335

Two Sisters, Hall of the, 28, 30, 65-103; Verses in the, 70-75

Vega, or Plain of Granada, 9

Votive Altar (Roman), Embedded in the Masonry of the Alhambra, 352

Watt, H. E., xli.

Weather-cock, House of the, 430, 439

Welíd (Sultán), 5

Wellington, Duke of, 35

“Wine Gate,” xxxv., 28, 29, 356

Ximenez, 13

Yonge, Charlotte M., xli.

Yúsuf, I. (Abu-el-Hejaj), xxvii., xxix., 28-34, 402

Yúsuf II., 414

Zacatin, 430

Záwí, xxvii.

Zegris, 10

Zoraya, the “Morning Star,” 10

* * * * *

THE ALHAMBRA

BY ALBERT F. CALVERT

_UNIFORM WITH “MOORISH REMAINS IN SPAIN”_

_SOME PRESS OPINIONS_

“A remarkable representation of the chief features of a building that has been, for six centuries, one of the wonders of the world.”--_Times._

“The standard work upon a splendid subject.”--_Daily Telegraph._

“Affords an inviting opportunity of studying this beautiful example of Moorish art.”--_Morning Post._

“A treasure to the student of decorative art.”--_Morning Advertiser._

“Seems to have been a labour of love.”--_Sporting Life._

“Superb pictorial guide.”--_Sportsman._

“It is a book apart.”--_Manchester Courier._

“The final book on the Alhambra.”--_Sussex Daily News._

“Takes high rank among the lavish books.”--_Financial News._

“Among the most important art books which have been published.”--_Globe._

“For any adequate idea of its beauty one must go to the book itself.”--_Echo._

“Altogether an attractive volume.”--_Sunday Special._

“Exercises on the reader something of the fascination which inspired its production.”--_Observer._

“Will contribute as much as anything to bringing home to men’s minds the greatness of the Moors.”--_Reynolds._

“Helps one to realise the wonder and the glory of the Alhambra in a way that few other books can do.”--_Lloyds._

“As a history it is conciseness itself.”--_Outlook._

“The coloured plates ... alone are worth the price of the volume.”--_Academy._

“A monumental work.”--_Bristol Mercury._

“A notable work of art.”--_Lowestoft Standard._

“It is the last word on the subject.”--_Nottingham Express._

“One of the most sumptuous of modern tomes.”--_Newcastle Chronicle._

“The most adequate illustrated souvenir.”--_Scotsman._

“A remarkable masterpiece of book production.”--_Eastern Daily Press._

“A magnificent work.”--_Melbourne Age._

“Few writers would be better qualified to describe the Alhambra.”--_Bookseller._

“The most complete record ... which has ever been contemplated, much less attempted.”--_British Architect._

“One of the most magnificent books ever issued from the English Press.”--_Building World._

“In every way well produced.”--_Building News._

“Instructive and attractive.”--_Field._

“We have seldom had a more pleasurable task than that of reviewing it.”--_Commercial Intelligence._

“A fitting memorial of one of the greatest of human achievements.”--_Review of Reviews._