I.

Speed, Halcyon, speed, and here construct thy nest:

Brood on these waves, and charm the winds to rest!

No wave should dare to rage, no wind to roar,

Till lands yon blooming maid on Lisbon’s shore.

That maid, as Venus fair and chaste is she,

When first to dazzled sky and glorying sea

The bursting conch Love’s new-born queen exposed,

The fairest pearl that ever shell inclosed.

While love’s fantastic hand had joyed to braid

Her locks with weeds and shells like some sea-maid,

High seated at the stern was Irza seen,

And seemed to rule the tide, as ocean’s queen.

Smooth sailed the bark; the sun shone clear and bright

The glittering billows danced along in light;

While Irza, free from fear, from sorrow free,

Bright as the sun, and buoyant as the sea,

Bade o’er the lute her flying fingers move,

And sang a Spanish lay of Moorish love.

ZAYDE AND ZAYDA.

(From Las Guerras Civiles de Granada.’)

Lo! beneath yon haughty towers,

Where the young and gallant Zayde

Fondly chides the lingering hours,

Till they bring his lovely maid.

Evening shades are gathering round him;

Doubting fear his heart alarms;

But nor doubt nor fear can wound him,

If he views his lady’s charms.

Hark! the window softly telling,

Zayda comes to bless his sight;

Bright as sun-beams clouds dispelling,

Mild as Cynthia’s trembling light.

“Dearest, say, to what I’m fated!”

Cried the Moor, as near he drew:

“Is the tale my page related,

Loveliest lady, is it true?

“To an ancient lord thy beauty

Does thy tyrant father doom?

Must my love, the slave of duty,

Waste in age’s arms her bloom?

“If my lot be still to languish,

Thine, another’s bride to be,

Let thy lips pronounce my anguish;

‘Twill be bliss to die by thee!”

Rising sighs her grief discover;

Fast her tears, while speaking, pour--

“Zayde, my Zayde, our loves are over!

Zayde, my Zayde, we meet no more!

“Allah knows, I cherished dearly,

Fondest hopes of being thine!

Allah knows, I grieve sincerely,

When I those fond hopes resign!

“May some lady, happier, fairer,

Blest with every charm and grace,

Whose kind friends would grieve to tear her

From all comfort, fill my place:

“May all pleasures greet your bridal;

May she give you heart for heart!

Never be she from her idol

Forced, as I am now, to part!”

“Rumour did not then deceive me!”

Wild the Moor in anguish cries:

“Then ’tis true! for wealth you leave me!

Wealth has charms for Zayda’s eyes!

“Blind to beauty, cold to pleasure,

Ozmyn shall my hopes destroy!

Yes; though worthless such a treasure,

He shall Zayda’s charms enjoy!

“Fare thee well! so soon to sever

Little thought I, when you said,

“Thine it is, and thine for ever

‘Shall be Zayda’s heart, my Zayde!’”