Lovely seems the Sun's full glory But a thousand times more lovely Tip-toe stands the anxious lover, < Is it true, the dreadful story 'An old lord from Antiquera, Thy stern father brings along; "If 'tis true, now plainly tell me, Deeply sigh'd the conscious maiden, Alla is the Mahometan name of God. 'Our fond friendship is discover'd, "Threats, reproaches, fears, surround me; 'Ancient wounds of hostile fury Win this tender heart of mine? "Well thou know'st how dear I lov'd thee, "Well thou know'st what cruel chidings 'I no longer may resist them; All to force my hand combine; And to-morrow to thy rival This weak frame I must resign. "Yet think not thy faithful Zaida 'Farewell then, my dear Alcanzor! Farewell too my life with thee! Soon, lov'd youth, some worthier maiden To him, all amaz'd, confounded, 'Canst thou think I thus will lose thee? 'Canst thou, wilt thou, yield thus to them? This fond heart shall bleed to save thee, 'Tis in vain, in vain, Alcanzor; Spies surround me, bars secure : Scarce I steal this last dear moment, While my damsel keeps the door. 'Hark, I hear my father storming! · Hark, I hear my mother chide! I must go; farewell for ever! Gracious Alla be thy guide!' Percy. THE SPANISH VIRGIN, OR EFFECTS OF JEALOUSY. ALL tender hearts, that ache to hear Of those that suffer wrong; All you that never shed a tear, Give heed unto my song.. Fair Isabella's tragedy My tale doth far exceed : Alas! that so much cruelty In female hearts should breed! In Spain a lady liv'd of late, Strange jealousies so fill'd her head A gentlewoman passing fair Did on this lady wait: With bravest dames she might compare; Her beauty was complete. Her lady cast a jealous eye In silence still this maiden meek In vain in humble sort she strove Her fury to disarm; As well the meekness of the dove Her lord, of humour light and gay, As oft as she came in his way, And oft before his lady's face, All which incens'd his lady so She burn'd with wrath extreme; For on a day it so befel, When he was gone from home, The lady all with rage did swell, And to the damsel come: And charging her with great offence, And many a grievous fault; She bade her servants drag her thence, Into a dismal vault, That lay beneath the common-shore : Where they were wont, in days of yore, |