 | Plays and poems |  |
353
THE ROSE OF GRANADA.
O, the Rose of Granada was blooming full-blown,
And she laughed at the suitors who thought her their own,
Till there came from Morocco the Moor, Ala Jaeer,
And he tossed from his spear-head the horse-tails in air,
Saying, “List to me, lady;
For hither I 've flown,
O Rose of Granada,
To make thee my own.”
And she laughed at the suitors who thought her their own,
Till there came from Morocco the Moor, Ala Jaeer,
And he tossed from his spear-head the horse-tails in air,
Saying, “List to me, lady;
For hither I 've flown,
O Rose of Granada,
To make thee my own.”
He sang from his saddle of war and of love,
With a voice that was soft as the houries' above;
And he sang to his gittern of love and of war,
With one foot in his stirrup and one in her door:
Singing, “Look from thy lattice;
I never will rove,
O Rose of Granada,
For war yields to love.”
With a voice that was soft as the houries' above;
And he sang to his gittern of love and of war,
With one foot in his stirrup and one in her door:
Singing, “Look from thy lattice;
I never will rove,
O Rose of Granada,
For war yields to love.”
She smiled in his face as she ne'er smiled before,
And the suitors went trooping away from her door;
But they saw from a spear driven deep in the plain,
Where a barb had been tied by his gold-bitted rein,
That the horse-tails were waving,
Now hither, now there;
For the Rose of Granada
Had fallen in the snare.
And the suitors went trooping away from her door;
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Where a barb had been tied by his gold-bitted rein,
That the horse-tails were waving,
Now hither, now there;
For the Rose of Granada
Had fallen in the snare.
The suitors went muttering, by day and by night,
“Our Rose will be stolen away in our sight,”
Till the Moor, Ala Jaeer, from her portal one morn
Stepped, shaking the horse-tails in triumph and scorn:
“O, in, to your lady,
And tend her, I pray,
For the Rose of Granada
Is fading away.
“Our Rose will be stolen away in our sight,”
Till the Moor, Ala Jaeer, from her portal one morn
Stepped, shaking the horse-tails in triumph and scorn:
“O, in, to your lady,
And tend her, I pray,
For the Rose of Granada
Is fading away.
“She is one of a hundred—to tell you 's but fair;
Who'll tilt for the lady I 've left in despair?”
With a scowl on his brow, and a sneer on his mouth,
The horse-tails went dancing away towards the south.
But the suitors were whispering,
Ere daylight was gray,
“O, the rose of Granada
Has faded away!”
Who'll tilt for the lady I 've left in despair?”
With a scowl on his brow, and a sneer on his mouth,
The horse-tails went dancing away towards the south.
But the suitors were whispering,
Ere daylight was gray,
“O, the rose of Granada
Has faded away!”
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