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he dances, Honeyed words of adulation From the knights who still compare me To the sun with dainty phrases. "Yes, of all things I am weary, Since I first beheld by moonlight Him, my cavalier, whose zither Nightly draws me to my casement. "As he stands so slim and daring, With his flaming eyes that sparkle, And with nobly pallid features, Truly, he St. George resembles." Thus went Donna Clara dreaming, On the ground her eyes were fastened. When she raised them, lo! before her Stood the handsome knightly stranger. Pressing hands and whispering passion, These twain wander in the moonlight, Gently doth the breeze caress them, The enchanted roses greet them. The enchanted roses greet them, And they glow like Love's own heralds. "Tell me, tell me, my beloved, Wherefore all at once thou blushest?" "Gnats were stinging me, my darling, And I hate these gnats in summer E'en as though they were a rabble Of vile Jews with long, hooked noses." "Heed not gnats nor Jews, beloved," Spake the knight with fond endearments. From the almond-trees dropped downward Myriad snowy flakes of blossoms. Myriad snowy flakes of blossoms Shed around them fragrant odors. "Tell me, tell me, my beloved, Looks thy heart on me with favor?" "Yes, I love thee, O my darling, And I swear it by our Saviour, Whom the accursed Jews did murder, Long ago with wicked malice." "Heed thou neither Jews nor Saviour," Spake the knight with fond endearments. Far off waved, as in a vision, Gleaming lilies bathed in moonlight. Gleaming lilies bathed in moonlight Seemed to watch the stars above them. "Tell me, tell me, my beloved, Didst thou not erewhile swear falsely?" "Naught is false in me, my darling, E'en as in my veins there floweth Not a drop of blood that's Moorish, Neither of foul Jewish current." "Heed not Moors nor Jews, beloved," Spake the knight with fond endearments. Then towards a grove of myrtles Leads he the Alcalde's daughter. And with Love's slight subtile meshes, He has trapped her and entangled. Brief their words, but long their kisse
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