provinces invade.
The warlike weapons that I don
Are festal robes to me;
To me the din of battle
Is sweet tranquillity;
The direst toils the warrior bears
With steadfast joy I meet;
To me the watch that nightlong lasts
Is like a slumber sweet."
"No Moors of thine within these halls
Have caused to me this pain;
No maidens waiting in my bower
Have showed to me disdain;
Nor have my Christian kinsmen
To mourn my spirit made,
Provoking thee in vengeance
Their province to invade.
Vain the deep cause of my distress
From Galvan's eye to hide--
'Tis that I see down yonder mount
A knight in armor ride.
'Tis such a sight that does my tears
From very heart-springs move;
For yonder knight is all to me,
My husband and my love."
Straight the Moor's cheek with anger flushed,
Till red eclipsed the brown,
And his clenched fist he lifted
As if to strike her down.
He gnashed his teeth with passion,
The fangs with blood were red,
He called his slaves and bade them
Strike off the lady's head.
He bade them bind and take her
First to the mountain's height,
That she the doom might suffer
Within her husband's sight;
But all the lady answered,
When she was brought to death,
Were words of faith and loyalty
Borne on her parting breath:
"Behold, I die a Christian,
And here repeat my vows
Of faithfulness to yonder knight,
My loved and lawful spouse."

THE BEREAVED FATHER

"Rise up, rise up, thou hoary head,
What madness causes thy delay?
Thou killest swine on Thursday morn,
And eatest flesh on fasting day.

"'Tis now seven years since first I trod
The valley and the wandering wood;
My feet were bare, my flesh was torn,
And all my pathway stained in blood.

"Ah, mournfully I seek in vain
The Emperor's daughter, who had gone
A prisoner made by caitiff Moors,
Upon the morning of St. John.

"She gathered flowers upon the plain,
She plucked the roses from the spray,
And in the orchard of her sire
They found and bore the maid away."

These words has Moriana heard,
Close nestled in the Moor's embrace;
The tears that welled from out her eyes
Have wet her captor's swarthy face.

THE WARDEN OF MOLINA

The warden of Molina, ah! furious was his speed,
As he dashed his glittering rowels in the flank of his good steed,
A