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Anonymous

"Moorish Literature"


Neglect that not from falseness or words of mine had sprung
But from the slanderous charges made by a lying tongue;
And now I ask thee pardon, if it be not too late,
Oh, take thy Zaida to thy heart, for she is desolate!
For if thou pardon her, and make her thine again, I swear
Thou never wilt repent, dear love, thou thus hast humored her!
It is the law of honor, which thou wilt never break,
That the secret of sweet hours of love thou mayst not common make.
That never shouldst thou fail in love, or into coldness fall,
Toward thy little Moorish maiden, who has given thee her all."
She spoke; and Bencerraje, upon his gallant bay,
Was calling to her from the street, where he loitered blithe and gay,
And quickly she came down to him, to give him, e'er they part,
Her rounded arms, her ivory neck, her bosom, and her heart!

ZAIDE REBUKED
"See, Zaide, let me tell you not to pass along my street,
Nor gossip with my maidens nor with my servants treat;
Nor ask them whom I'm waiting for, nor who a visit pays,
What balls I seek, what robe I think my beauty most displays.


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