Moorish Literature
Page 8
That till his lady could escape, that death might be delayed.
But, in the dark, a deadly stone, flung with no warning sound,
Was buried in his forehead and stretched him on the ground.
The breath his heaving bosom left and, from his nerveless hand,
The sword fell clattering to the ground, before that bloody band.
And when the damsel saw herself within those caitiffs' power,
And saw the city mantled in the darkness of the hour,
No grief that ever woman felt was equal to her pain,
And no despair like that of hers shall e'er be known again.
Those villains did not see those locks, that shone like threads of gold;
Only the summer sunlight their wondrous beauty told.
They did not mark the glittering chain of gold and jewels fine,
That in the daylight would appear her ivory throat to twine.
But straight she took the scimitar, that once her lover wore,
It lay amid the dewy grass, drenched to the hilt in gore.
And, falling on the bloody point, she pierced her bosom through,
And Tartagona breathed her last, mourned by that robber crew.
And there she lay, clasping in death her lover's lifeless face,
Her valor's paragon, and she the glass of woman's grace.
And since that hour the tale is told, while many a tear-drop falls,
Of the lovers of the vega by Antequera's walls.
And they praise the noble lady and they curse the robber band,
And they name her the Lucretia of fair Andalusia's land.
And if the hearer of the tale should doubt that it be true,
Let him pass along the mountain road, till Ronda comes in view,
There must he halt and searching he may the story trace
In letters that are deeply cut on the rocky mountain's face.
TARFE'S TRUCE
"Oho, ye Catholic cavaliers
Who eye Granada day and night,
On whose left shoulder is the cross,
The crimson cross, your blazon bright.
"If e'er your youthful hearts have felt
The flame of love that brings delight,
As angry Mars, in coat of steel,
Feels the fierce ardor of the fight;
"If 'tis your will, within our walls,
To join the joust, with loaded reed,
As ye were wont, beneath these towers
The bloody lance of war to speed;
"If bloodless tumult in the square
May serve instead of battle's fray,
And, donning now the silken cloak,
Ye put the coat of steel away;
"Six troops of Saracens are here;
Six Christian troops, with targe and steed
Be ready, when the day is fixed,
To join the jousting of the reed.
"For 'tis not right that furious war,
Which sets the city's roofs in flames,
Should kindle with a fruitless fire
The tender bosom of our dames.
"In spite of all we suffer here
Our ladies are with you arrayed,
They pity you in this fierce war,
This labor of the long blockade.
"Amid the hardships of the siege
Let pleasure yield a respite brief;
(For war must ever have its truce)
And give our hardships some relief.
"What solace to the war-worn frame,
To every soul what blest release,
To fling aside the targe and mail,
And don one hour the plumes of peace!
"And he who shall the victor be
Among the jousters of the game,
I pledge my knightly word to him,
In token of his valorous fame,
"On his right arm myself to bind
The favor of my lady bright;
'Twas given me by her own white hand,
The hand as fair as it is white."
'Twas thus that Tarfe, valiant Moor,
His proclamation wrote at large;
He, King Darraja's favored squire,
Has nailed the cartel to his targe.
'Twas on the day the truce was made,
By Calatrava's master bold,
To change the quarters of his camp,
And with his foes a conference hold.
Six Moorish striplings Tarfe sent
In bold Abencerraje's train--
His kindred both in race and house--
To meet the leaguers on the plain.
In every tent was welcome warm;
And when their challenge they display,
The master granted their request
To join the joust on Easter day.
In courteous words that cartel bold
He answered; and a cavalcade
Of Christians, with the Moorish guards,
Their journey to Granada made.
The guise of war at once was dropped;
The armory closed its iron door;
And all put on the damask robes
That at high festival they wore.
The Moorish youths and maidens crowd,
With joyful face, the city square;
These mount their steeds, those sit and braid
Bright favors for their knights to wear.
Those stern antagonists in war,
Like friends, within the town are met;
And peacefully they grasp the hand,
And for one day the past forget.
And gallant Almarada comes
(Not Tarfe's self more brave, I ween),
Lord of a lovely Moorish dame,
Who rules her lover like a queen.
A hundred thousand favors she
In public or in private gives,
To show her lover that her life
Is Almarada's while she lives!
And once upon a cloudy night,
Fit curtain for his amorous mood,
The gallant Moor the high hills scaled
And on Alhambra's terrace stood.
Arrived, he saw a Moorish maid
Stand at a window opened wide;
He gave her many a precious gem;
He gave her many a gift beside.
He spoke and said: "My lady fair,
Though I have never wronged him, still
Darraja stands upon the watch,
By fair or foul, to do me ill.
"Those eyes of thine, which hold more hearts
Than are the stars that heaven displays;
That slay more Moors with shafts of love
Than with his sword the master slays;
"When will they soften at my smile?
And when wilt thou, my love, relent?
Let Tarfe go, whose words are big,
While his sword-arm is impotent!
"Thou seest I am not such as he;
His haughty words, so seldom true,
Are filled with boasting; what he boasts
This sturdy arm of mine can do.
"My arm, my lance, ah! well 'tis known
How oft in battle's darkest hour
They saved Granada's city proud
From yielding to the Christian's power."
Thus amorous Almarada spoke
When Tarfe came and caught the word;
And as his ear the message seized,
His right hand seized upon his sword.
Yet did he deem some Christian troop
Was in the darkness hovering by;
And at the thought, with terror struck,
He turned in eager haste to fly!
Darraja roused him at the din;
And with loud voice to Tarfe spoke;
He knew him from his cloak of blue,
For he had given the Moor that cloak!
THE TWO MOORISH KNIGHTS
Upon two mares both strong and fleet,
White as the
cygnet's snowy wing,
Beneath Granada's arching gate
Passed Tarfe and Belchite's King.
Like beauty marks the dames they serve;
Like colors at their spear-heads wave;
While Tarfe kneels at Celia's feet,
The King is Dorelice's slave.
With belts of green and azure blue
The gallant knights are girded fair;
Their cloaks with golden orange glow,
And verdant are the vests they wear.
And gold and silver, side by side,
Are glittering on their garment's hem;
And, mingled with the metals, shine
The lights of many a costly gem.
Their veils are woven iron-gray,
The melancholy tint of woe--
And o'er their heads the dusky plumes
Their grief and desolation show.
And each upon his target bears
Emblazoned badges, telling true
Their passion and their torturing pangs,
In many a dark and dismal hue.
The King's device shines on his shield--
A seated lady, passing fair;
A monarch, with a downcast eye,
Before the dame is kneeling there.
His crown is lying at her feet
That she may spurn it in disdain;
A heart in flames above is set;
And this the story of his pain.
"In frost is born this flame of love"--
Such legend circles the device--
"And the fierce fire in which I burn
Is nourished by the breath of ice."
Upon her brow the lady wears
A crown; her dexter hand sustains
A royal sceptre, gilded bright,
To show that o'er all hearts she reigns.
An orb in her left hand she bears,
For all the world her power must feel;
There Fortune prostrate lies; the dame
Halts with her foot the whirling wheel.
But Tarfe's shield is blank and bare,
Lest Adelifa should be moved
With jealous rage, to learn that he
Her Moorish rival, Celia, loved.
He merely blazons on his targe
A peaceful olive-branch, and eyes
That sparkle in a beauteous face,
Like starlets in the autumn skies.
And on the branch of olive shines
This legend: "If thy burning ray
Consume me with the fire of love,
See that I wither not away."
They spurred their horses as they saw
The ladies their approach surveyed;
And when they reached their journey's end
The King to Dorelice said:
"The goddesses who reign above
With envy of thy beauty tell;
When heaven and glory are thy gifts,
Why should I feel the pangs of hell?
"Oh, tell me what is thy desire?
And does heaven's light more pleasure bring
Than to own monarchs as thy slaves,
And be the heiress to a king?
"I ask from thee no favor sweet;
Nor love nor honor at thy hand;
But only that thou choose me out
The servant of thy least command.
"The choicest nobles of the realm
The glory of this office crave;
The lowliest soldier, with delight,
Would die to prove himself thy slave.
"Each life, each heart is at thy feet;
Thou with a thousand hearts mayst live;
And if thou wouldst not grant my prayer,
Oh, take the warning that I give.
"For there are ladies in the court
To my desires would fain consent,
And lovely Bendarrafa once
These jealous words but lately sent:
"'Those letters and those written lines,
Why dost thou not their sense divine?
Are they not printed on thy heart
As thy loved image is on mine?
"'Why art thou absent still so long?
It cannot be that thou art dead?'"
Then ceased the King and silent stood,
While Tarfe to his Celia said:
"Celestial Celia be thy name;
Celestial calm is on thy brow;
Yet all the radiance of thy face
Thy cruelty eclipses now.
"A witch like Circe dost thou seem;
For Circe could o'ercloud the sky;
Oh, let the sun appear once more,
And bid the clouds of darkness fly!
"Ah, would to God that on the feast,
The Baptist's consecrated day,
I might my arms about thee fling
And lead thee from thy home away.
"Yet say not that 'tis in thy power
To yield or all my hopes to kill;
For thou shalt learn that all the world,
In leaguer, cannot bend my will.
"And France can tell how many a time
I fought upon the tented field,
And forced upon their bended knee
Her loftiest paladins to yield.
"I vanquished many a valiant knight
Who on his shield the lilies bore;
And on Vandalia's plain subdued
Of Red Cross warriors many a score.
"The noblest I had brought to yield
Upon Granada's gory plain,
Did I not shrink with such vile blood
The honor of my sword to stain."
At this the trumpets called to arms;
Without one farewell word each knight
Turned from the lady of his heart
And spurred his steed in headlong flight.
THE KING'S DECISION
Amid a thousand sapient Moors
From Andalusia came,
Was an ancient Moor, who ruled the land,
Rey Bucar was his name.
And many a year this sage had dwelt
With the lady he loved best;
And at last he summoned the Cortes,
As his leman made request.
The day was set on which his lords
And commoners should meet,
And they talked to the King of his wide realm's need,
As the King sat in his seat.
And many the laws they passed that day;
And among them a law that said
That the lover who took a maid for his love
The maid of his choice must wed;
And he who broke this ordinance
Should pay for it with his head.
And all agreed that the law was good;
Save a cousin of the King,
Who came and stood before him,
With complaint and questioning;
"This law, which now your Highness
Has on your lieges laid,
I like it not, though many hearts
It has exultant made.
"Me only does it grieve, and bring
Disaster on my life;
For the lady that I love the best,
Is already wedded wife;
"Wedded she is, wedded amiss;
Ill husband has she got.
And oft does pity fill my heart
For her distressful lot.
"And this one thing I tell thee, King,
To none else has it been told:
If I think her love is silver,
She thinks my love is gold."
Then spake Rey Bucar in reply,
This sentence uttered he:
"If thy love be wedded wife, the law
Hath no penalty for thee."
ALMANZOR AND BOBALIAS
The King Almanzor slept one night,
And, oh! his sleep was blest;
Not all the seven Moorish kings
Could dare to break his rest.
The
infante Bobalias
Bethought of him and cried:
"Now rouse thee, rouse thee, uncle dear!
And hasten to my side.
"And bid them fetch the ladders
Owned by my sire the King;
And the seven mules that carry them
Into my presence bring.
"And give to me the seven stout Moors
Who shall their harness set,
For the love, the love of the countess
I never can forget."
"Ill-mannered art thou, nephew,
And never wilt amend;
The sweetest sleep I ever slept,
Thou bringest to an end."