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