Remember how upon that day thou gavest many a sign
Of love and lavished'st the kiss which told me thou wert mine.
Remember, lovely Zaida, though memory bring thee pain,
Thy bliss when 'neath thy window I sang my amorous strain.
By day, before the window, I saw my darling move,
At night, upon the balcony, I told thee of my love.
If I were late or absence detained me from thy sight,
Then jealous rage distraught thy heart, thine eyes with tears were
bright.
But now that thou hast turned from me, I come thy face to greet,
And thou biddest me begone, and pass no longer through thy street.
Thou biddest me look on thee no more, nor even dare to write
The letter or the _billet-doux,_ that caused thee once delight.
Yes, Zaida, all thy favors, thy love, thy vows, are shown
To be but false and faithless, since thou art faithless grown.
But why? thou art a woman, to fickle falseness born;
Thou prizest those who scorn thee--those who love thee thou dost scorn.
I change not, thou art changed, whose heart once fondly breathed my name;
But the more thy bosom turns to ice, the fiercer burns my flame;
For all thy coldness I with love and longing would repay,
For passion founded on good faith can never die away.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159