turn to bane,
As fade thy dazzling flowers.
A mournful image art thou
Of all that lays me low,
And on my shield I'll bear thee
As blazon of my woe.
For thou dost bloom in many a flower,
Till blasted by the wind,
And 'tis of thee this word is true--
'The season was not kind.'"
He spoke and on his courser's head
He slipped the bridle rein,
And while he curbed his gentle steed
He could not curb his pain,
And to Ocana took his course,
O'er Tagus' verdant plain.

LOVE AND JEALOUSY

"Unless thou wishest in one hour
Thine April hope shouldst blighted be,
Oh, tell me, Tarfe, tell me true,
How I may Zaida chance to see.
I mean the foreigner, the wife
New wedded, her with golden hair,
And for each lock a charm besides
She counts--for she is passing fair.
Her, whom the Moorish nobles all
To heaven in their laudation raise,
Till the fine ladies of the land
Are left to languish in dispraise.
The mosque I visit every day,
And wait to see her come in sight;
I wait to see her, where the rout
And revel lengthen out the night.
However, cost me what it may,
I cannot meet the lovely dame.
Ah, now my eyes are veiled in tears,
Sure witness of my jealous flame.
And tell me, Tarfe, that my rage
Has cause enough, for since I've been
Granada's guest (and would to God
Granada I had never seen!)
My lord forsakes me every night,
Nor till the morning comes again;
He shuns as painful my caress,
My very presence brings him pain;
Little indeed he recks of me,
If only he may elsewhere reign.
For if we in the garden meet,
Or if we in the chamber be,
His actions his estrangement prove,
He has not even words for me.
And if I say to him, 'My life!'
He answers me, 'My dearest dear,'
Yet with a coldness that congeals
My very heart with sudden fear.
And all the while I strive to make
His soul reveal a traitorous thought,
He turns his back on me, as if
To him my trembling fear was naught.
And when about his neck I cling,
He drops his eyes and bows his face,
As if, from thought of other arms
He longed to slip from my embrace.
His bosom heaves with discontent,
Deep as from hell the sigh is wrenched;
My heart with dark suspicion beats,
And all my happiness is quenched.
And if I ask of him the cause,
He says the cause in me is fo