No:-but the pillared mosque is filled Who mourn their Emir's dying hour, But hark again! the air resounds With many a mingled voice, that comes Mounts o'er the wall the Christian foe? Shouts, with his deadly spear in rest, No: but the true Believers there, In tones of clamorous wo, Wail the Miramolin, who leaves His people here below: Who leaves them to the vengeful sword Of Castile's banded knights, The fiery charge of Aragon, Asturia's mountain fights: Who leaves them to the fatal rage More deadly to the Moorish name Than Leon or Navarre. 'T is done :-the Caliph is in heaven, And, earth to earth, his mortal part El Hakkam wears his father's crown, The Emir's palace now is his ; Crowned with their gay festoons. He stands at last within the rich Pavilion of his sire, Where all that's sumptuous, splendid, all That princely souls desire, Bassora's purple silks; the gold The gifts of Constantine. The haughty Saracen Threw his undazzled, lofty glance Around the glittering scene. 'Mine, mine, is all this grandeur now,' Exultingly he cried; 'Mine is the Western Caliphate, The Moslem nation's pride. And trembling Burgos hear the clash 'Victorious from the fight returned, Here peaceful will I rest, While houris, fair as Eram's, wait Eager to do my hest. Thus in the stirring pomp of war, Or sweeter joys than this, Days, weeks, and years will glide away In never ending bliss.' A brilliant casket met his eye, Even as he kindling spoke; He pressed the spring: it open flew, Lo! an illumined scroll within, El Hakkam raised it to his lips, And these the memorable lines Let fifty years attest, 'While honor, pleasure, fill'd my cup Of gladness to the brim; And rival kings, who feared my power, Still praised the Moslemim. Propitious heaven for fifty years With lavish bounty shed Whate'er the human heart could ask 'I've counted o'er the hours of bliss Man from the lesson of my power Learn the unreal worth, The vanity of human life, The nothingness of earth!' Deep in El Hakkam's bosom sunk The dying words of age, The wisdom of a sage. Thenceforth he bade farewell : How peaceful, wise and just his reign, Let Moorish annals tell. GARCI PEREZ, A TALE OF THE HOLY OFFICE. This even handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice MACBETH. But such is the infection of the time That, for the health and physic of our right Este fue el mas sutil medio KING JOHN. CALDERON. |