s that I love thee most of all,
Thy coldness brings me shame.
Oh, dismal is the exile,
That wrings my heart with woes,
And locks my lips in silence
Among unfeeling foes.

The warden of fierce Reduan
With cruelty more deep
That that of a hidalgo,
Has locked this prison keep;
And on this frontier set me,
To pine without repose,
To watch, from dawn to sunset,
Over his Christian foes.
Here like a watch-tower am I set
For Santiago's lord,
And for a royal mistress
Who breaks her plighted word.
And when I cry with anguish
And seek in song relief,
With threats my life is threatened,
Till silence cloak my grief.
Oh, dismal is the exile,
That wrings my heart with woes,
And locks my lips in silence
Among unfeeling foes.

And when I stand in silence,
Me dumb my jailers deem,
And if I speak, in gentle words,
They say that I blaspheme.
Thus grievously perverting
The sense of all I say,
Upon my lips the raging crowd
The gag of silence lay.
Thus heaping wrong on wrong my foes
Their prisoner impeach,
Until the outrage of my heart
Deprives my tongue of speech.
And while my word the passion
Of my sad heart betrays,
My foes are all unconscious
Of what my silence says.
Now God confound the evil judge
Who caused my misery,
And had no heart of pity
To soften his decree.
Oh, dismal is the exile,
That wrings my heart with woes,
And locks my lips in silence
Among unfeeling foes.

THE BLAZON OF ABENAMAR

By gloomy fortune overcast,
Vassal of one he held in scorn,
Complaining of the wintry world,
And by his lady left forlorn,
The wretched Abenamar mourned,
Because his country was unkind,
Had brought him to a lot of woe,
And to a foreign home resigned.
A stranger Moor had won the throne,
And in Granada sat in state.
Many the darlings of his soul
He claimed with love insatiate,
He, foul in face, of craven heart,
Had won the mistress of the knight;
Her blooming years of beauteous youth
Were Abenamar's own by right.
But royal favor had decreed
A foreign tyrant there should reign,
For many a galley owned him lord
And master, in the seas of Spain.
Oh, haply 'twas that Zaida's self,
Ungrateful like her changing sex,
Had chosen this emir, thus in scorn
Her Abenamar's soul to vex.
This was the