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 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
89
MOORISH MEMORIES.
An hour of precious romance, I owe, my friend, to thee,
And on the wings of Fancy my spirit crossed the sea;
The same transporting magic did to thy gift belong
That sparkled in Aladdin's Lamp, old theme of Eastern song!
An Andalusian summer clad earth in brightest guise—
Gave dark green to the foliage, deep azure to the skies,
And sternly mountain-barriers uprear'd their crests of snow,
While palace-spire and minaret flashed at their feet below.
And on the wings of Fancy my spirit crossed the sea;
The same transporting magic did to thy gift belong
That sparkled in Aladdin's Lamp, old theme of Eastern song!
An Andalusian summer clad earth in brightest guise—
Gave dark green to the foliage, deep azure to the skies,
And sternly mountain-barriers uprear'd their crests of snow,
While palace-spire and minaret flashed at their feet below.
Approached by winding avenues, Granada lay in sight—
Gay pleasure-ground and gardens basked in the dazzling light;
To groves of palm and cypress flocked birds of plumage rare,
And happy genii were afloat upon enchanted air.
Throned on a height commanding the Darro's vale of flowers,
I saw the red Alhambra's tall battlements and towers;
Oh! would that mine were language to paint its pictured walls,
Its colonnades and court-yards, its galleries and halls.
Gay pleasure-ground and gardens basked in the dazzling light;
To groves of palm and cypress flocked birds of plumage rare,
And happy genii were afloat upon enchanted air.
Throned on a height commanding the Darro's vale of flowers,
I saw the red Alhambra's tall battlements and towers;
Oh! would that mine were language to paint its pictured walls,
Its colonnades and court-yards, its galleries and halls.
Methought the dreams of childhood were realized at last,
And magic hands uplifted a pall that hid the past,
While looking on its panels with colored stone inlaid,
And alabaster vases on which the sunbeam played.
In gem-embroidered caftan, and grave with cares of state,
Dispensing equal justice, a king was at the gate—
The hajib was in waiting, to hear his high command,
And in the foreground gathered proud nobles of the land.
And magic hands uplifted a pall that hid the past,
While looking on its panels with colored stone inlaid,
And alabaster vases on which the sunbeam played.
In gem-embroidered caftan, and grave with cares of state,
Dispensing equal justice, a king was at the gate—
The hajib was in waiting, to hear his high command,
And in the foreground gathered proud nobles of the land.
Luxurious rooms I entered through quaintly carven doors,
And trod on fretted pavements and tesselated floors;
And in secluded chambers for beauty's use designed,
On gorgeous silken cushions voluptuous forms reclined.
To win their smile full often had gallant cavaliers
Met with a shock, like thunder, at the Tournament of Spears,
And all had won the homage by Love and Valor paid,
When, under moon-lit balconies, awoke the serenade.
And trod on fretted pavements and tesselated floors;
90
On gorgeous silken cushions voluptuous forms reclined.
To win their smile full often had gallant cavaliers
Met with a shock, like thunder, at the Tournament of Spears,
And all had won the homage by Love and Valor paid,
When, under moon-lit balconies, awoke the serenade.
Xariffa, rose of sunset—Zorayda, star of dawn!
Ye never can be numbered with things of beauty gone;
Poetical embalmment bestows a glorious light,
That frights away the minions of darkness, dust, and blight.
Umbrageous courts I traversed, where lime and orange grew,
And fig and date their shadows on beds of roses threw,
Then bathed in perfumed waters, and listened to the sound
Of singing founts diffusing grateful coolness round.
Ye never can be numbered with things of beauty gone;
Poetical embalmment bestows a glorious light,
That frights away the minions of darkness, dust, and blight.
Umbrageous courts I traversed, where lime and orange grew,
And fig and date their shadows on beds of roses threw,
Then bathed in perfumed waters, and listened to the sound
Of singing founts diffusing grateful coolness round.
While silvery Xenil wandered through blooming bower and plain,
Back came once more the splendor of Moorish rule in Spain:
I heard the stormy clarion, the atabal's deep roll,
And felt the joy of battle awake within my soul.
Elvira's gates unfolded, and, grim with many a scar,
A host of Moorish horsemen rode fiercely forth to war;
The standard of the prophet above them was unrolled,
And dallied with the lifting wind its green and golden fold.
Back came once more the splendor of Moorish rule in Spain:
I heard the stormy clarion, the atabal's deep roll,
And felt the joy of battle awake within my soul.
Elvira's gates unfolded, and, grim with many a scar,
A host of Moorish horsemen rode fiercely forth to war;
The standard of the prophet above them was unrolled,
And dallied with the lifting wind its green and golden fold.
Gemmed saddle-cloth and armor were blinding to the gaze,
And burnished lance and scimetar flashed back the sun-beam's blaze,
While prancing in the van, as if their nostrils scented gore,
The milk-white steeds of Yemen, king, sheik and emir bore.
When fled that martial pageant, like vapor on the gale,
Woke on the banks of Darro a startling voice of wail,
And tones so full of sweetness, and wild, despairing woe,
Were never heard by listening ear from mortal lips to flow.
And burnished lance and scimetar flashed back the sun-beam's blaze,
While prancing in the van, as if their nostrils scented gore,
The milk-white steeds of Yemen, king, sheik and emir bore.
When fled that martial pageant, like vapor on the gale,
Woke on the banks of Darro a startling voice of wail,
And tones so full of sweetness, and wild, despairing woe,
Were never heard by listening ear from mortal lips to flow.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |