Alfonso is my king:
But let Suleya kiss the cross,
And let her wear the ring.
The crucifix the bride shall bear,
Her lord shall couch the spear;
And still I'll smite thy foe for thee,
And for thy daughter dear."
I remember thee, Granada!
Then up Suleya rose, and spoke, —
"I love Cid Ramon well;
But not to win his heart or sword,
Will I my faith compel.
With Yussef, cruel though he be,
A bond-maid will I rove,
Or ere I kiss the Christian's cross,
To win the Christian's love."
I remember thee, Granada!
"Suleya! now thou griev'st me much —
A thousand score have I;
But, saving for a Christian's life,
They dare not strike or die.
Alfonso is my king, and thus
Commands my king to me:
But, for that Christian, all shall strike,
If my true love she be."
I remember thee, Granada!
"Ill loves the love, who, ere he loves,
Demands a sacrifice:
Who serves myself, must serve my sire,
And serve without a price.
Let Yussef come with sword and spear,
To fetter and to rend;
I choose me yet a Moorish foe
Before a Christian friend!" —
I remember thee, Granada!
"Ill loves the love, who pins his love
Upon a point of creed;
And balances in selfish doubt,
At such a time of need.
His heart is loosed, his hands untied,
And he shall yet be free
To wear the cross, and break the ring,
Who will not die for me!"
I remember thee, Granada!
The Emir's cry went up to heaven:
Cid Ramon rode away —
"Ye may not fight, my thousand score,
For Christian friend to-day.
But tell the king, I bide his hest,
Albeit my heart be sore;
Of all his troops, I give but one
To perish for the Moor."
I remember thee, Granada!
The Emir's cry went up to heaven;
His howling hosts came on;
Down fell Sevilla's tottering walls, —
The thousand score were gone.
And at the palace-gate, in blood,
The Arab Emir raves;
He sat upon Mohammed's throne,
And look'd upon his slaves.
I remember thee, Granada!
"The lives of all that faithful be,
This good day, will I spare;
But wo betide or kings or boors,
That currish Christians are!" —
Up rode Cid Ramon bleeding fast;
The princess wept to see; —
"No cross was kiss'd, no prayer was said,
But still I die for thee!"
I remember thee, Granada!
The Moorish maid she kiss'd the cross,
She knelt upon her knee; —
"I kiss the cross, I say the prayer,
Because thou diest for me.
To buy thy thousand score of swords,
I would not give my faith;
But now I take the good cross up,
To follow thee in death."
I remember thee, Granada!
"Holy Maria! Come to us,
And take us to the blest;
In the true blood of love and faith,
Receive us to thy rest!" —
The Emir struck in bitter wrath,
Sharp fell the Arab blade;
And Mary took the Cid to heaven,
And bless'd the Christian maid.
I remember thee, Granada!
"I like that ballad well," said De Morla, with a pensive sigh, when the singer had finished, "and, to my thought, no handsome maiden, though such always makes the best ballad-singer, could have trolled it with a more tender and loving accent than Jacinto. 'The Moorish maid,'" he continued, humming the words in a sentimental manner, —