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Anonymous

"Moorish Literature"

"
The gallant Moor his courser checked,
His cheek with anger burned,
Men saw, that all his gallant mien
To gloom and rage was turned.

KING JUAN
"Abenamar, Abenamar," said the monarch to the knight,
"A Moor art thou of the Moors, I trow, and the ladies' fond delight,
And on the day when first you lay upon your mother's breast,
On land and sea was a prodigy, to the Christians brought unrest;
The sea was still as a ruined mill and the winds were hushed to rest.
And the broad, broad moon sank down at noon, red in the stormy west.
If thus thou wert born thou well mayst scorn to ope those lips of thine,
That out should fly a treacherous lie, to meet a word of mine."
"I have not lied," the Moor replied, and he bowed his haughty head
Before the King whose wrath might fling his life among the dead.
"I would not deign with falsehood's stain my lineage to betray;
Tho' for the truth my life, in sooth, should be the price I pay.
I am son and squire of a Moorish sire, who with the Christians strove,
And the captive dame of Christian name was his fair wedded love;
And I a child from that mother mild, who taught me at her knee
Was ever told to be true and bold with a tongue that was frank and free,
That the liar's art and the caitiff heart would lead to the house of
doom;
And still I must hear my mother dear, for she speaks to me from the tomb.


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