the rising of the day. 
  Think that he is now thy slave, who, when he wooed thee, was thy King;
  Think that not the brightest morning can to him contentment bring,
  Till the light of other moments in thy melting eyes he trace,
  And the gates of Paradise are opened in thy warm embrace. 
  Since thou knowest that death to me and thee will strike an equal blow,
  It is just that, while we live, our hearts with equal hopes should glow. 
  Then no longer vex thy lover with complaints that he may change;
  Darling, oft these bitter questions can the fondest love estrange;
  No, I dream not of estrangement, for thy Chico evermore
  Thinks upon his Vindaraja’s image only to adore.”

THE INFANTA SEVILLA AND PERANZUELOS

  Upon Toledo’s loftiest towers
    Sevilla kept the height;
  So wondrous fair was she that love
    Was blinded at the sight.

  She stood amid the battlements,
    And gazed upon the scene
  Where Tagus runs through woodland
    And flowers and glades of green.

  And she saw upon the wide highway
    The figure of a knight;
  He rode upon a dappled steed,
    And all his arms were bright.

  Seven Moors in chains he led with him,
    And one arm’s length aloof
  Came a dog of a Moor from Morocco’s shore
    In arms of double proof.

  His steed was swift, his countenance
    In a warlike scowl was set,
  And in his furious rage he cursed
    The beard of Mahomet!

  He shouted, as he galloped up: 
    “Now halt thee, Christian hound;
  I see at the head of thy captive band
    My sire, in fetters bound.

  “And the rest are brothers of my blood,
    And friends I long to free;
  And if thou wilt surrender all,
    I’ll pay thee gold and fee.”

  When Peranzuelos heard him,
    He wheeled his courser round. 
  With lance in rest, he hotly pressed
    To strike him to the ground;
  His sudden rage and onset came
    Swift as the thunder’s sound.

  The Moor at the first encounter reeled
    To earth, from his saddle bow;
  And the Christian knight, dismounting,
    Set heel on the neck of his foe.

  He cleft his head from his shoulders,
    And, marshalling his train,
  Made haste once more on his journey
    Across Toledo’s plain.

CELIN’S FAREWELL

  He sadly gazes back again upon those bastions high,
  The towers and fretted battlements that soar into the sky;
  And Celin, whom the King in wrath has from Granada banned
  Weeps as he turns to leave for aye his own dear native land;
  No hope has he his footsteps from exile to retrace;
  No hope again to look upon his lady’s lovely face. 
  Then sighing deep he went his way, and as he went he said: 
      “I see thee shining from afar,
      As in heaven’s arch some radiant star. 
      Granada, queen and crown of loveliness,
      Listen to my lament, and mourn for my distress.