"
'Twas thus, Granada's fountain by, spoke Albuharez' daughter,
"The well is deep, far down they lie, beneath the cold blue water--
To me did Muca give them, when he spake his sad farewell,
And what to say when he comes back, alas! I cannot tell.
"My ear-rings! my ear-rings! they were pearls in silver set,
That when my Moor was far away, I ne'er should him forget,
That I ne'er to other tongue should list, nor smile on other's tale,
But remember he my lips had kissed, pure as those ear-rings pale--
When he comes back, and hears that I have dropped them in the well,
Oh, what will Muca think of me, I cannot, cannot tell.
"My ear-rings! my ear-rings! he'll say they should have been,
Not of pearl and of silver, but of gold and glittering sheen,
Of jasper and of onyx, and of diamond shining clear,
Changing to the changing light, with radiance insincere--
That changeful mind unchanging gems are not befitting well--
Thus will he think--and what to say, alas! I cannot tell.
"He'll think when I to market went, I loitered by the way;
He'll think a willing ear I lent to all the lads might say;
He'll think some other lover's hand, among my tresses noosed,
From the ears where he had placed them, my rings of pearl unloosed;
He'll think, when I was sporting so beside this marble well,
My pearls fell in,--and what to say, alas! I cannot tell.
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