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Anonymous

"Moorish Literature"


And yet I vowed with courage rash thy turrets I would bring
To ruin and thy subjects make the captives of my King.
That in one night my sword of might, before the morrow's sun,
Would do for thy great citadel what centuries have not done.
I pledged my life to that attempt, and vowed that thou shouldest fall,
Yet now I stand in impotence before thy castle tall.
For well I see, before my might shall win thee for my King,
That thou, impregnable, on me wilt rout and ruin bring,
Ah, fatal is the hasty tongue that gives such quick consent,
And he who makes the hasty vow in leisure must repent.
Ah! now too late I mourn the word that sent me on this quest,
For I see that death awaits me here whilst thou livest on at rest,
For I must enter Jaen's gates a conqueror or be sent
Far from Granada's happy hills in hopeless banishment;
But sorest is the thought that I to Lindaraja swore:
If Jaen should repulse me I'd return to her no more;
No more a happy lover would I linger at her side,
Until Granada's warrior host had humbled Jaen's pride.


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