In caitiff fraud and treachery abuse thine ear with lies.” 
  The lady smiled, her heart was light, she felt a rapture new;
  And like each flower that filled their bower the love between them grew,
  For little takes it to revive the love that is but true;
  And aided by his lady’s hand he hastes her gems to don,
  And on his courser’s back he flings a rich caparison,
  A head-stall framed of purple web and studded o’er with gold;
  And purple plumes and ribbons and gems of price untold;
  He clasped the lady to his heart, he whispered words of cheer,
  And then took horse to Gelva to join the tilting there.

CALL TO ARMS

  What time the sun in ocean sank, with myriad colors fair,
  And jewels of a thousand hues tinted the clouds of air,
  Brave Gazul at Acala, with all his host, drew rein—­
  They were four hundred noblemen, the stoutest hearts in Spain—­
  And scarcely had he reached the town when the command was given: 
  “Now let your shots, your cross-bows, sound to the vault of heaven! 
  Let kettle-drums and trumpets and clarions blend their strain;
  Zulema, Tunis’ King, now lands upon the coast of Spain,
  And with him ride, in arms allied, Marbello and his train.” 
  And though at night he entered no torch or lamp he hath,
  For glorious Celinda is the sun upon his path;
  And as he enters in the town at once the word is given: 
  “Now let your shots, your cross-bows, sound to the vault of heaven! 
  Let kettle-drums and trumpets and clarions blend their strain;
  Zulema, Tunis’ King, now lands upon the coast of Spain,
  And with him ride, in arms allied, Marbello and his train.” 
  Gazul dismounted from his steed and hastened to his bride;
  She sat there mournful and alone and at his sight she sighed;
  He flung his arms about the girl; she shrank from his embrace,
  And while he looked in wonder, she hid her blushing face;
  He said, “And can it be that thou should’st shrink from my embrace?”
  Before she answered with one voice the air around was riven—­
  “Now let your shots, your cross-bows, sound to the vault of heaven! 
  Let kettle-drums and trumpets and clarions blend their strain;
  Zulema, Tunis’ King, now lands upon the coast of Spain,
  And with him ride, in arms allied, Marbello and his train.” 
  “Ah, traitor,” she replied to him, “four months wert thou away,
  And I in vain expected some tidings day by day.” 
  And humbly did the Moor reply, “Do I deserve the blame? 
  Who drops the lance to take the pen, he does a deed of shame.” 
  They sank into each other’s arms just as the word was given: 
  “Now let your shots, your cross-bows, sound to the vault of heaven! 
  Let kettle-drums and trumpets and clarions blend their strain;
  Zulema, Tunis’ King, now lands upon the coast of Spain,
  And with him ride, in arms allied, Marbello and his train.”