Now mournfully and slowly The afflicted warriors come, Oh! what was Zayda's sorrow, Her lover's wounds streamed not more free Say, Love for didst thou see her tears: The afflicted warriors come, Nor Zayda weeps him only, The great Alhambra's palace walls And springs of Albaicin. The ladies weep the flower of knights, The people weep a champion, LOVE IN THE AGE OF CHIVALRY. FROM PEYRE VIDAL, THE TROUBADOUR. THE earth was sown with early flowers, I met a youthful cavalier As lovely as the light. I knew him not-but in my heart His graceful image lies, And well I marked his open brow, His glittering teeth betwixt, And flowing robe embroidered o'er, He wore a chaplet of the rose ; Of jasper was his saddle-bow, His housings sapphire stone, And brightly in his stirrup glanced The purple calcedon. Fast rode the gallant cavalier, As youthful horsemen ride; "Peyre Vidal! know that I am Love,” The blooming stranger cried; "And this is Mercy by my side, A dame of high degree; This maid is Chastity," he said, "This squire is Loyalty." |