GAZUL CALUMNIATED

  Gazul, despairing, issues
    From high Villalba’s gate,
  Cursing the evil fortune
     That left him desolate. 
  Unmoved he in Granada saw
     What feuds between the foes
  The great Abencerrajes
     And the Andallas rose. 
  He envied not the Moors who stood
     In favor with the King! 
  He did not crave the honors
     That rank and office bring. 
  He only cared that Zaida,
     Her soft heart led astray
  By lying words of slander,
     Had flung his love away. 
  And thinking on her beauteous face,
     Her bearing proud and high,
  The bosom of the valiant Moor
     Heaved with a mournful sigh. 
  “And who has brought me this disdain,
     And who my hope betrayed,
  And thee, the beauteous Zaida,
     False to thy purpose made? 
  And who has caused my spoils of war,
    The palm and laurel leaf,
  To wither on my forehead, bowed
    Beneath the load of grief?’
  ’Tis that some hearts of treachery black
    With lies have crossed thy way,
  And changed thee to a lioness,
    By hunters brought to bay. 
  O tongues of malediction! 
    O slanderers of my fame! 
  Thieves of my knightly honor! 
    Ye lay up naught but shame. 
  Ye are but citadels of fraud,
    And castles of deceit;
  When ye your sentence pass, ye tread
    The law beneath your feet. 
  May Allah on your cruel plots
    Send down the wrath divine,
  That ye my sufferings may feel,
    In the same plight as mine. 
  And may ye learn, ye pitiless,
    How heavy is the rod
  That brings on human cruelty
    The chastisement of God. 
  Ye who profess in word and deed
    The path of truth to hold
  Are viler than the nightly wolves
    That waste the quiet fold.” 
  So forth he rode, that Moorish knight,
    Consumed by passion’s flame,
  Scorned and repulsed by Zaida,
    The lovely Moorish dame. 
  Then spake he to the dancing waves
    Of Tagus’ holy tide,
  “Oh, that thou hadst a tongue, to speak
    My story far and wide! 
  That all might learn, who gaze on thee
    At evening, night, or morn,
  Westward to happy Portugal,
    The sufferings I have borne.”

GAZUL’S DESPAIR

  Upon Sanlucar’s spacious square
    The brave Gazul was seen,
  Bedecked in brilliant array
    Of purple, white, and green. 
  The Moor was starting for the joust,
    Which many a warrior brings
  To Gelva, there to celebrate
    The truce between the kings. 
  A fair Moor maiden he adored,
    A daughter of the brave,
  Who struggled at Granada’s siege;
    Granada was their grave. 
  And eager to accost the maid,
    He wandered round the square;
  With piercing eyes he peered upon