And count me not a traitor, I
Defy thee face to face,
Lay hand upon thy scimitar
If thou hast heart of grace."
And with these words he dealt one stroke,
A cruel stroke and true,
It reached the Moor, it struck his heart
And pierced it through and through.
Down fell the wretch, that single stroke
Had laid him with the dead--
"Now let him die for all his deeds,"
The assembled people said.
Gazul made bravely his defence,
And none could check his flight;
He dashed his rowels in his steed,
And vanished in the night.
GAZUL AND ALBENZAIDE
"Tho' thou the lance can hurl as well
As one a reed might cast,
Talk not of courage for thy crimes
Thy house's honor blast.
Seek not the revel or the dance,
Loved by each Moorish dame.
The name of valor is not thine,
Thou hast a coward's name;
And lay aside thy mantle fair
Thy veil and gaberdine,
And boast no more of gold and gems--
Thou hast disgraced thy line.
And see thine arms, for honor fit,
Are cheap and fashioned plain;
Yet such that he whose name is lost
May win it back again.
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