Then spake he to the dancing waves
Of Tagus' holy tide,
"Oh, that thou hadst a tongue, to speak
My story far and wide!
That all might learn, who gaze on thee
At evening, night, or morn,
Westward to happy Portugal,
The sufferings I have borne."
GAZUL'S DESPAIR
Upon Sanlucar's spacious square
The brave Gazul was seen,
Bedecked in brilliant array
Of purple, white, and green.
The Moor was starting for the joust,
Which many a warrior brings
To Gelva, there to celebrate
The truce between the kings.
A fair Moor maiden he adored,
A daughter of the brave,
Who struggled at Granada's siege;
Granada was their grave.
And eager to accost the maid,
He wandered round the square;
With piercing eyes he peered upon
The walls that held the fair.
And for an hour, which seemed like years,
He watched impatient there;
But when he saw the lady mount
Her balcony, he thought,
That the long hour of waiting
That vision rendered short.
Dismounting from his patient steed,
In presence of his flame,
He fell upon his knees and kissed
The pavement in her name.
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