ZENEL.* A TALE OF GRANADA. CANTO I. I. SHE was a peasant's daughter blithe and fair, Modest and gentle as the timid fawn, When first it ventures forth upon the lawnSought and beloved was young ZENEL: but like The radiant sunbeam prisoned in a cloud Ere it has traversed all its missioned way From the metropolis of light and day A meteor seen, then lost in night's dim shroud The rainbow's bright but evanescent glow Was the pure maiden's brief career below. II. The summer moon is shining bright Far o'er the dark Sierra's height,' And crag, and peak, and snowy crest, Where the wild eagle builds her nest; 2 The myrtle groves, and palms, and flowers, Are gleaming in her quivering smiles; Above the azure canopy Spreads its celestial drapery, Bespangled with ten thousand stars, While by their sheen Afar are seen Angels careering in their cars, 3 Where lovers stroll beside the streams, Or there have stolen an hour to rove That bids them happiness forego; To tread earth's chequered paths apart, Weary, and lone, and sick at heart. Along Alhambra's dreary halls And royal mirth, and music's swell In mockery of his misery; And on the Vega's moonlit green, While lingers yet the evening star Amidst the balmy air serene, Trip small feet to the light guitar 5 And the low tinkling castanet, To mingle with the bright Xenil," 153719 And golden Darro's gentle tide, That onward pensively doth glide— A scene so bright—divinely fair, That one might deem crime lurked not there, Nor battle ever shook that plain, Nor blood from noble Zegri's vein Sprinkled the sod like heavy rain, III. Alas! there is no land on earth A people who no sorrow know, A spot which hath no tale of woe: The bard, from wrecks of empires flown, Weaves his immortal wreath of woes, 4 |