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 wor