Gonzalvo

Front matter

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OR

THE FALL OF GRENADA.

Book I

Ye beauteous Nymphs who sport beneath the wave, And glossy curls in crystal streamlets lave, Who by the banks of Gaudalquiver rove, Courting the shadows of each verdant grove ; And then on plains where blooming flowers prepare Their spicy fragrance to perfume the air. At founts ambrosial press the ruby lip, And life-inspiring, sparkling, nectar sip, — Cease for a while these pastimes of the soul. The wayward musings of my mind control. Illume my fancies with poetic flame. To blazen halos round Gonzalvo's name ; To image forth his wondrous deeds of blood, That bathed Grenada with a purple flood. Around me now let thy sweet influence move, And guide my pencil in a theme of love ; While tra'cinor combats of Cordova's son And painting battles by his valor won.

Aid me to sing of Isabelle's renown, Her noble daring for the christian crown, She, who in battle, Mar's deep frowns withstood. And braved all danger for her country's good, In faithful outlines those fine traits to save. That gild the name of Ferdinand the brave. Who boldly now the schemes of War defied. And freed Hispania from her Moslem pride.

Ye generous Spaniards, first to you I pay This feeble tribute of my humble lay ; Your noble souls and ardent bosoms prove The finest models in the art of love ; Your regal arms such boundless regions sway, That in your confines smiles eternal day ; Your dearest idols varying faiths approve, But worship jointly at the shrine of love.

Id proud Castile was Isabelle enthroned. And Spain's vast bound her regal empire owned. Her soul the mildest attributes displayed. And love-bound subjects by her charms were swayed ; While Ferdinand, whose blandishments had won The grand appellative of Spain's loved son. In Arragon the sceptre wields apart. And binds each subject to his generous heart. In bonds connubial were these monarchs joined. Their rule divided — yet with crowns entwined ; In glory's springtide, warm with youthful zeal, Ambitious only for their country's weal.

OR THE FALL OF GRENADA.

Indignantly they saw, and with regret, Spain's fairest climes by infidels beset ; Beheld their Eden bloom 'neath Ismael's reign, The crescent gleaming o'er the cross of Spain !

Eight hundred years of war could not efface From bright Hispania's soil that savage race, Those bold marauders, who from Yarfric's seed Upsprung like thorns, to choke this flowery mead ; A remnant still of this barbarian race In proud magnificence held lordly place ! But christian faith, like brilliant beams of light. Had scattered far the pagan clouds of night. Had circumscribed the evils of their day. And left alone Grenada to their sway ! Possessed indeed of that delightful shore. Where Afric's billows foam and madly roar, Those fertile plains which hold perennial bloom. From Mount Abylar to the Scipio's tomb. They mock the power that christian forces wield Against their bright impenetrable shield ! Grenada's city yet was still their pride, The strongest fortress on Hispania's side. Her thousand mosques that shade the azure skies. With golden min'rets that in splendor rise. Her courts, her palaces, such charms impart, As mock the brilliancy of magic art ! Here towers, and walls, upreared in massive rows, Disdain the fury of besieging foes ; Here forts, and citadels, and brazen gates. Defiance bid to these assembled States !

While Moslem prowess holds no speech with fear, Nor dreams of barriers to its grand career 1

Within this city Boabdil resides, And arts and arms of Spanish foes derides, Grenada's States were subject to his will, And rendered him a powerful monarch still. But Boabdil, ferocious, proud, and fell. Had oft provoked the wrath of Isabelle, All laws conventional were thrust aside That counterchecked his interest or pride. He scorns her treaties, e'en her name abhors. And stamps his hatred, with continual wars ! The bold excursions which this tyrant made. That hamlets sacked, and towns in ashes laid, That reaped the fields, which industry had sown. And golden harvests pillaged for the throne. Call now for vengeance from her royal hand. And War's dire menace echoes throuo-h the land !

The war-blast thunders, and the trump alarms, Hispania listens, and is prompt in arms ; Her force before Grenada's gates she brings To raise the cross, and prostrate Moslem kings ! Amidst this marshaled loyal host are seen The christian sovereign and his lovely queen ; A golden union in religion's cause, That worth and valor to the altar draws. From Boetis' banks, to Ebro's silver tide. Proud banners wave, and gilded armors glide j

OR THE FALL OF GRENADA.

War's horrid din, in harsh discordant notes,

O'er peaceful slumbers of the country floats.

Never before did such vast numbers go

To execute a city's overthrow !

Never before w^ere seen, on battle plain.

So many heroes in a monarch's train ;

Never before such disciplined array,

Such gorgeous trappings as these troops display !

The corps elite, of Arragon the flower.

Whose valor meets the perils of the hour,

In duty prompt no dangers ever scan,

But onward move and constitute the van.

This valiant band, the king himself commands.

And at its head, the royal monarch stands !

Next come Castilians, faithful to their king.

Whose shouts astounding make the welkin ring ;

With heavy helmets peering o'er the lawn.

And swords already from their scabbards drawn ;

Valerians now with fiery spirits come,

Mid clang of trumpets and the roll of drum,

Their lofty spears a moving forest seem.

While at their sides their trusty sabres gleam.

Belareans too, keen, dexterous, and bold,

With burnished shields, reflecting suns of gold,

To music's chime they tread their willing way,

With arms and armor for th' impending fray ;

The wild Asturians from the mountains far.

With banners waving swell the pomp of war.

This hardy race the storms of war defy.

And to their sovereign's royal standard fly.

And ancient Leon, faithful to the laws, Brings forth her legions in this holy cause, Quick for the fight advance this phalanx brave, To shield their monarchs and their country save. Thus all in arms ! to arms their country calls ! Hispania triumphs, and Grenada falls !

To name the heroes, an invidious task, When justly all in royal sunshine bask. When each, on glory's tablet finds his name Enrolled to public or to private fame ; Yet some there are whom duty bids us praise, And crown their temples with unfading bays ; On Clio's page to chronicle each name As lasting records of their well-earned fame. Among the brave, and first Aguilar stood, More true to virtue than to noble blood. He ne'er forgot, in flush of victory's pride, To let kind mercy at his heart preside. Fernando Cortez, here, first seized the brand, And life devoted to his native land ; In budding youth the warrior's art he learned, Which subsequently Mexico o'erturned ! The courteous Lara, friend of th' oppressed, And valiant Teller, in his country blessed ; Beneath whose locks of more than sixty years The sparkling eye of ardent youth appears. The prince of Portugal, Mendoze Gonfree, And many others, knights of chivalry. Who to the standard of their monarch fly, To conquer with him, or with him to die !

Before Grenada's walls in proud array The Spanish host their glittering spears display, For conflict eager, and with hope elate. And restlessly their monarch's will await. But Ferdinand, by prudence early schooled, Was firm in purpose, rigid where he ruled ; Divide to conquer, was this monarch's plan. He weakened first, the contest then began. He knew the apple of contending strife Would dissipate dissensions strong and rife ; The treacherous missive secretly he throws, Fomenting discord with his Moslem foes ; Thus while his aims and purposes he gained. Inaction o'er th' impatient army reigned.

But Isabelle with grief brooked this delay, Her ardent soul desired th' impending fray, Her people's love, her holy faith, endures No reconciliation with the Moors ! Devoted was her pious heart to heaven. And in this holy crusade wholly given ; And honor bids her strike th' avenging blow Which hurls destruction on her deadly foe !

His annual course the sun had nearly run Since these invading troops the siege begun. But nothing yet indicative of fear Or want of strength within the walls appear. The pickets oft in gentle skirmish played, And skilful moves in martial art displayed.

And often too, a crimson spot was found,

Where Moslem blood with Christian stained the

ground !

But Boabdil had learned with great relief, The Spanish army was without its chief The brave Gonzalvo, whose renown in fight, O'er Moslem forces cast pestiferous blight, Spain's gallant chief, whom Ferdinand revered, With these besieging troops had not appeared. Some unknown cause Gonzalvo had detained. And thus awhile was Moslem hope sustained !

Six lustres only had Gonzalvo seen, Ardent in fealty to king and queen, In war's career from early life he moved, A brave enthusiast in the cause he loved. Upon his heart benevolence and zeal Had placed the impress of their holy seal. Born amidst the clangor of continual wars. His onward course no threatened danger bars ; Combats were sports, from Moorish spoils he drew The only heritage he ever knew ; His nervy arm ne'er felt the conqueror's glave, He fought for glory — vanquished but to save !

Gonzalvo, noble, generous, and free, Was victim now to basest perfidy. The king of Fez had threatened to o'erwhelm By force of arms the Andalusian realm. And in alliance with Grenadian power, Spain's villaged shores and fertile plains to scour

Already had he on the turgid main

Launched his flotilla for the coast of Spain !

This warlike object Ferdinand alarms,

It presaged ruin to his power and arms,

Checked each fond hope that germed his soul to bless,

And blighted prospects bright with Spain's success.

But over-zealous in this enterprise,

He yet on Seid's venality relies.

In bold designs his efforts never cease,

To Seid he promptly offers terms of peace !

The wily king this proffered friendship scanned,

And saw deep projects in its features planned;

And jealous of Hispania's giant stride.

He sought the means to curb this peering pride.

To him was known Gonzalvo's brilliant fame,

He knew Grenada trembled at his name,

That on his arm Spain's destinies were hung,

That from his prowess had her glories sprung ;

Within his grasp to bring this mighty chief.

To weaken Spain, and give the Moors relief,

T' insure the hope, that chance might yet release.

He designates him messenger of peace !

And this the missive to our troubled Spain :

" The king of Fez would royal favor gain.

His brother's peaceful motives he commends,

And to his person royal greeting sends.

But terms of peace must at our court be heard.

From mission, by our royal self preferred.

Let brave Gonzalvo, Spain's beloved, be sent.

The friendly branch that shall our bonds cement ! "

King Ferdinand with indignation burned, And this imperious mandate would have spurned. But prudence in his rising passion reigned, And reason's mild prerogative sustained. Refusal but accelerates his woes. Enchanting prospects speedily o'erthrows, Impedes the enterprise so near his heart. And turns his dreams of happiness apart. This bold position still must be sustained. And Spain's prerogative with Fez maintained I Thus Ferdinand to haughty Seid concedes, And brave Gonzalvo to his court proceeds ! A splendid bark the noble chieftain bore O'er mirrored ocean to the Afric shore. Where Seid, the king (to Boabdil allied), With his nefarious artifice complied I Gonzalvo was by stratagem detained. His purpose thwarted, and his will restrained I

Above distrust but angered by delay. And scarcely dreaming treachery barred his way, Gonzalvo spurned at honor thus possessed, That gratified no impulse of his breast. The glory which absorbed his active mind Was not alone to war's renown confined, Within his breast a vivid passion dwelt. An ardent fire which warriors seldom felt. Love, deep-felt love, beyond his power's control. With golden fetters bound his lofty soul !

Some time before the assembled troops of Spain Had neared Grenada, and deployed their train, Gonzalvo marched triumphantly elate, And passed the portal of the brazen gate : This sudden conflict paralyzed the foe, Who terror-struck stood spell-bound in their woe ; Horrid destruction marked his onward course, In death or flio-ht each foeman counts his force. Fear wino-ed its course throuo-hout the Moslem train, And swords and spears seemed glittering there in vain ! Had his Castilians on that awful day, His footsteps followed in the direful fray, Gonzalvo's prowess would have reached the throne, And Boabdil, and his vile court o'erthrown ! But as the terrors of the shock subside. The Moslem force this gallant band deride ; Their triple numbers rout the assailing foe, And deal severely the avenging blow. These hardy veterans with reluctance yield, And leave alone their chief upon the field.

Amidst this scene of conflict and of blood. An angel form in mortal being stood ; Old Hassam's daughter, of his joys the spring. The fair Zulema, sister of the king ! Mid battle's din appeared this lovely maid. Checking the fears that Moslem ranks pervade. AVith her mild voice their drooping hearts were cheered, And souls elate in vengeance persevered. But when at lenath the slaughter met her siorht, She shrieked with horror, trembled with affright !

Upon the pavement suppliantly she kneels,

And for her country fervently appeals !

Her glistening eyes to heaven are raised in fear,

While she aloud invokes her God to hear :

*' Father, to thee my feeble voice I send,

Be our protector and our city's friend ;

In this dark day of horror show thy power.

And shield thy people in this fearful hour.

Check thou the fury of this angry foe,

Whose weapon immolates at every blow ;

Stretch forth thine arm, which mighty is, to save,

Restrain these fiends, insatiate as the grave ;

Their high-wrought passions wilt thou temper, Lord,

Till human mercies with divine accord ! "

On moved Gonzalvo, borne by passion's flood. His sword still reeking with the Moors' best blood. Closely pursued the affrighted Moslems fly. Or in the conflict rush at once to die ! When he beheld this dark-eyed weeping maid. Checked was his courser, and his wrath was stayed. Amazed he viewed the fair Zulema's face. And contemplated each bewitching grace. The beauteous traits that gave each charm relief. Embellished were, and decked by marks of grief; The swan-like neck, the dark and flashing eye. The raven curls that o'er the bosom lie — Such strange emotions gathered to his breast. That warlike ardor sunk to peaceful rest ! Our gallant chief found writhing in his heart The rankling barb of an unerring dart.

His thirsty soul each mean potation hates,

Love's choicest nectar now inebriates ;

Forgotten was Grenada, glory, friends,

To conquering love the vanquished hero bends !

Alighting from his steed Gonzalvo saw

The rallied enemy around him draw ;

Again his sword from glittering scabbard leaped,

Its crimson blade in Moslem blood still steeped ;

Again the fury of his wrath arose.

As moved in columns these inveterate foes.

But powerless now the giant arm appeared,

His ardent heart by love's bright flame is seared !

Repulsed by numbers, weak with loss of blood.

Before the wrathful foe no more he stood !

Reckless of glory, life itself seemed stayed,

While bent his eyes on this angelic maid.

But roused to danger, from revengeful cries,

From Moslem fury brave Gonzalvo flies !

Retraced his course among the bloody dead,

And much exhausted from the city fled !

Gonzalvo, shrouded in the deepest gloom. Cherished a hope that blossomed for the tomb ; In bitter grief he mourned the cruel fate That veiled her name, her quality, and state ; Yet when kind fancy beamed a flattering ray. And gave his clouded heart a brighter day. Perplexing doubts in hideous forms obtrude. And gleams of happiness again exclude : Grenada's long and lasting foe he stood. His arms were crimsoned with her richest blood :

His mortal hate to all her race extends,

Nor her religion nor her laws defends.

The hope was vain, that in his destined round,

This peerless object might again be found,

She heeded not th' emotions of his breast,

Nor scanned the passions which in vain sought rest.

But in his mind her image had a place,

That gave in battle to him strength and grace ;

In solitude, it still his thoughts employed.

And much the tumult of his heart destroyed.

Among the chiefs that sought for deathless fame. One lofty stood, and Lara was his name ; His noble soul with honor's jewel stored. At friendship's shrine its precious gem-stream poured. More dear than life our gallant chief he loved. And every feeling of his heart approved ; The same famed city gave these heroes birth, The same bright tablet recognized their worth. From infancy they wore the warriors' pride, And blooming laurels gathered side by side ; On tented field, in siege, in battle fight. In deadly havoc, still their souls unite. Steeled was their hearts, to danger and alarm. If chance to either, menaced slightest harm ; The vital spark that warmed Gonzalvo's breast. Seemed in the bosom of his friend to rest ; If Lara's heart, by pride, was e'er inflamed, 'T was when his tongue the brave Gonzalvo named : Then from his soul burst forth the meed of praise. Which crowned this chief in friendship's holy bays;

And happy he who shares this friendly state, Grief to assuage, or cares to dissipate.

When Ferdinand his embassy proclaimed, And for ambassador, Gonzalvo named, The royal mandate was brave Lara's doom, A destiny as dreadful as the tomb ; For friendship's life-blood gives each heart its tone, And but in union is pulsation known : To Isabelle repair these brother chiefs, Reveal attachments and disclose their griefs, And beg her majesty to intercede. That Lara with Gonzalvo may proceed ! But Isabelle foresaw her strength depressed, Her army weakened by these chiefs' request, Seid too, but one ambassador would own, Gonzalvo therefore must depart alone.

From this sad moment, Lara's hopes had fled. The living army was to him as dead ; The trumpet's voice no war-like thoughts excite, His ardor fails, nor pants his heart for fight. With grief o'erwhelmed forthwith from camp he goes, Nor recks he now of kindred or of foes. On mountain top he views the Afric sea. And marks each vessel as she braves the lee, Till fancy's vision to his startled sense, Portrays the ship that bears Gonzalvo hence ! His anxious eye the flittering phantom views, As on she ploughs the billowed avenues, 2

Till like a speck her white spread wings yet soar, And in the azure vault are seen no more.

O Africa ! thy seared and blasted lands, Thy sky-tipped mountains, showers of burning sands, Are not my song ! my theme to man is given, To man, the image of his God in heaven, Whose power creates, whose mercy wills him free. Alone to whom he owes the bended knee ! Yet, in thy vast expanse, thine arid bound, The gushing spring, the oasis is found, And culture's sweet vivific influence teems. And midst thy ruins beautifully beams. Here orange groves the ambient air perfume. Here, flourish citron, mid perennial bloom. The olive here puts forth its bud of green. In purple garb the clustered grape is seen. Upspringing here are flowers of varied hue, Commingling fragrance with the morning dew. O'er fertile plains the rippling waters glide. In beauty rushing from the mountain side. And silver streamlets onward sparkling run. To damp the ardor of the scorching sun. Here Nature, too, her cornucopia wields. And strews with fruits her golden-waving fields. Pours forth her treasures with unsparing hand. And scatters blessings widely o'er the land ! Though brightest smiles she sweetly here displays. Ungrateful man heeds not their heavenly rays! A wretched people grovel here and die. Submissive slaves to power and perfidy !

Whose sweating brows but irrigate the lands, Redeemed and cultured by their toil-worn hands ! Whose bitter tears the knotted lash but speeds, Till laceration, pulse and life impedes ! What charm for them the flowery mead and glade, The saffron morn, the purple evening shade ! What charm for them, that luxury and ease On downy couch respire the spicy breeze ! Can they rejoice, that earth her treasure yields ? That golden harvests brighten here the fields ? While clanking chains their writhing bodies clasp, And but in death, unclose their iron grasp ! Here despots, cormorants, and tyrant lords. Whose appetite, with unbound will, accords, Who gorged with lust, on syren charms repose. Nor start from slumbers till the bowstrings close ! And vile marauders of the ermine cast, Whose burning breaths life's tender germens blast, Who rapidly from throne to scaffold fly. And in life's chances throw but one frail die ! On blood of slaves they fatten, and content To sell their souls to soften punishment ! Alas ! the country where the monarch's power, The life-blood of his subjects can devour ! Where human flesh is bartered for and sold, And human beings, too, the act uphold ! Where lust and infamy their fanes uprear, And votaries the unhallowed rites revere ! Where vice and royalty hold regal sway, And ready victims duly homage pay !

Heaven's imprecations on such scenes will burst, And time will chronicle the deeds accurst !

Pale Cynthia, twice her crescent had renewed Since brave Gonzalvo, yet in solitude, Had reached the court where Seid the monarch reigned. And found himself by treachery detained ! In vain his threats, in vain the attempt to bring This foul indignity before the king ! Fear over Seid had such compulsive sway, He crossed no foot-path of Gonzalvo's way. Gonzalvo saw himself of slaves the sport. Of menial miscreants who surround a court. Whose fairest smiles the bitter curse imparts. As rolls the tide of their envenomed hearts. The hero mourns this exile from his friends. And fears the fate that treachery portends ; Around him daily were the meshes twined. That much the circle of his paths confined. And if, securely thus, his efforts sleep. Will to destruction's bound their victim sweep ! Assured at length of an auspicious day. When to the mosque the monarch wends his way. With rapid steps he reached the unhallowed fane, And there confronts the monarch and his train ! " Proud king of Fez," with thundering voice he cried, " For war or peace ! and instantly decide ! The sword is drawn, the parchment is displayed, The choice is thine, but shall not be delayed ! The avenging arm is raised, behold thy foe, Thy silence but accelerates the blow !

Beware its fall, one word from me alone,

Will headlong toss thee from thy tottering throne !

One hundred thousand trusty swords, as bright

As e'er leapt scabbard in the battle fight,

One hundred thousand fellow soldiers too,

Warm in their duty, and to country true,

Wait but the war-cry on the shores of Spain,

Where quick-winged echo will report the strain.

And to their panting eager souls impart

The kindled flame that fires each patriot heart !

Possessed of strength in plenitude they '11 come

To check presumption, and to strike thee dumb !

O'er waves of blood they'll fly in vengeful hate,

With fire and sword thy land to desolate.

Speak ! e'er the word shall fill thy soul with dread,

And bring destruction on thy guilty head ! "

At threats like these with wondrous grace achieved, Identity with Seid was scarce believed ; And trembling stood this awe-struck pallid king. While through his ears denunciation ring ! The recreant heart its villany reveals. And Seid denounced, the treaty signs and seals !

With greater speed ne'er skipped the lightning's flash. When through the clouds the mighty thunders clash, Than moved the tidings of this wondrous deed, That filled with fear the counsellors of Seid ! These fawning miscreants saw with bitter pain Their power and dignity upon the wane !

From their dark eye-balls corruscations dart,

As curses spring from each determined heart,

And up and onward, spur the impassioned soul

To deeds of vengeance yet within control !

" Immediate death ! immediate death ! " they cry,

And Spain's ambassador is doomed to die !

The king assents ! Assassins wait the call,

The despot glories in the hero's fall.

And every path that skirts the verdant plain,

And every egress to the turgid main.

With trusty spies and menial force was strown,

To watch the footsteps of one man alone !

Night, with her curtain veiled the brilliant day, Gonzalvo on his downy pillow lay. Home's loveliest visions flit before his eyes, And smiling friendship speaks of dearest ties. But now impatient at the lazy pace In which Apollo rode his morning race ; His watchful eyes time's lingering finger traced, Until the appointed moment was embraced ; That moment, now the dearest to his heart, Was morning dawn, at which he would depart ! But while reflection, like magnetic power, Drew nearer to him the important hour. He at his window sought the cooling breeze, Inhaling fragrance from the spicy trees. Now suddenly a lute his ear astounds With sweetest harmony of well known sounds ; Breathless he listens to this wondrous strain. Sent richly forth in native tongue of Spain !

Warriors brave and lovers dear,

Listen to the words I sing ; Prudence, whispering to your ear,

Breathes in echoes from the string.

fc)'

Silently vile traitors move,

Venoreance seeks a warrior brave :

Hearken to this lay of love, Glory falls beneath the glaive.

Stranger, list this humble note, Treason spreads its meshes near ;

Speedily may warnings float.

Zephyrs waft them to thy ear.

Somewhat alarmed at what in song he heard,

Gonzalvo's mind had treasured every word ;

To him transmitted seemed this mystic lay,

To guard from dangers, lurking in his way.

Breathless he stood, intently bent to know

From whence these startling, warning words could flow

Upon the lawn, at length, whose vast extent,

Embraced the palace and the battlement.

In mellow gleamings from fair Cynthia's eyes,

In captive garb an aged man he spies ;

His bleachened locks below his temples played.

His languid frame with racking pains oppressed.

And fretting chains his tottering limbs infest ;

He shuns apparently a savage train,

Aroused and summoned by his lute's soft strain !

Gonzalvo, prone to succor the distressed,

Descended quickly and the slave addressed :

"Stay feeble stranger and allay thy fears,

Thy frame seems burdened by the weight of years.

Is Spain thy country, that delightful shore? "

" Spain gave me birth — but softly, say no more ;

My life is periled if with thee I bide,

And eyes suspicious glance from every side ;

If brave Gonzalvo loves his country dear.

And would protect it, let him fly from here !

In yonder garden — mark — within the hour,

Meet we again, or feel the assassin's power ! "

He fled — Gonzalvo, with amazement filled,

His mind disturbed, his heart by horror chilled !

Undaunted stood the musing chief, alone ;

The Moors, he knew, to perfidy were prone ;

He could not lend uncautiously the ear,

Or warnings slight, apparently sincere :

Home twines the heart with an enchanting spell,

Which exorcism never can dispel.

A dreary spot, of deep and fearful shade, Was all this garden's portraiture displayed. No flowery-kirtled niche, no arbors bloom O'er ambient air to cast their rich perfume, No bending vine with clustered grape is seen, Nor golden fruit to gild the tristful green, Misshapen paths no footstep's impress bear, Nor breathes the lark her matin carols there ! But, at the portal, stood the anxious slave, Mid hope and fear Gonzalvo's life to save !

"rte hero comes — already they embrace,

And pleasure sparkles on the captive's face.

*' My country's glory is secure," he said,

" O valiant son of my loved master, dead !

Pardon the joy, this overflood of tears

Renewed from fountains grief had dried for years 1

Thou knowest me not, yet oft within these arms

Thou hast been sheltered from impending harms.

For many years your noble sire I served,

From bounden duty never never swerved,

Until alas ! enticed from Spain's bright shores

I passed the sea, a captive to the Moors !

And here in Fez, where human traffic 's bold.

Thy father's servant was to bondage sold !

For twenty years these galling chains I 've worn,

The lash endured, corroding fetters borne,

Till life's pure fount, which once such sweets supplied.

Dregs foul diffiises in its ebbing tide !

To what avail this bitter wailing now.

Past griefs no longer shall o'ershade the brow,

In thy just cause, stand life and strength renewed.

Death's blow uplifted, thou shalt yet elude ! "

The listening chief could not refrain from tears, Nor yet divines he of old Pedro's fears ; He saw no cloud with deadly bolts surcharged To blast his purpose with its fires, discharged. But rising doubts sank instantly to rest As Pedro thus his honored chief addressed : " Beneath the thicket which surrounds the glade Where verdant foliage throws its cooling shade,

Oft I retire, those moments to beguile,

That stand subtracted from the hours of toil.

It chanced, of late, as on the ground I lay,

Veiled from the fervor of the sun's hot ray,