The Moor is filled with desperate rage, for he sees the hour is fled
When day by day the dazzling ray of sunlight gilds that head,
And he stops to brood in desperate mood, for her alone he yearns
Can aught soothe the fire of fierce desire with which his bosom burns.
At last he sees her moving with all her wonted grace,
He sees her and he hastens to their old trysting-place;
For as the moon when night is dark and clouds of tempest fly
Rises behind the dim-lit wood and lights the midnight sky,
Or like the sun when tempests with inky clouds prevail,
He merges for one moment and shows his visage pale;
So Zaida on her balcony in gleaming beauty stood,
And the knight for a moment gazed at her and checked his angry mood.
Zaide beneath the balcony with trembling heart drew near;
He halted and with upward glance spoke to his lady dear:
"Fair Moorish maiden, may thy life, by Allah guarded still,
Bring thee the full fruition of that that thou dost will;
And if the servants of thy house, the pages of my hall,
Have lied about thine honor, perdition seize them all;
For they come to me and murmur low and whisper in my ear
That thou wishest to disown me, thy faithful cavalier;
And they say that thou art pledged to one a Moor of wealth and pride,
Who will take thee to his father's house and claim thee as his bride,
For he has come to woo thee from the wide lands of his sire;
And they say that his scimitar is keen and his heart a flame of fire.
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