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"And bid them fetch the ladders
Owned by my sire the King;
And the seven mules that carry them
Into my presence bring.
"And give to me the seven stout Moors
Who shall their harness set,
For the love, the love of the countess
I never can forget."
"Ill-mannered art thou, nephew,
And never wilt amend;
The sweetest sleep I ever slept,
Thou bringest to an end."
Now they have brought the ladders
Owned by his sire the King.
And, to bear the load along the road,
Seven sturdy mules they bring;
And seven stout Moors, by whom the mules
In housings are arrayed.
And to the walls of the countess
Their journey have they made.
There, at the foot of yonder tower,
They halt their cavalcade.
In the arms of the count Alminique
The countess lay at rest;
The infante has ta'en her by the hand,
And caught her to his breast.

THE MOORISH INFANTA AND ALFONZO RAMOS
Beneath the shade of an olive-tree
Stood the infanta fair;
A golden comb was in her hands,
And well she decked her hair.


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