"He'll say, I am a woman, and we are all the same;
He'll say I loved when he was here to whisper of his flame--
But when he went to Tunis my virgin troth had broken,
And thought no more of Muca, and cared not for his token.
My ear-rings! my ear-rings! O luckless, luckless well,
For what to say to Muca, alas! I cannot tell.
"I'll tell the truth to Muca, and I hope he will believe--
That I thought of him at morning, and thought of him at eve;
That, musing on my lover, when down the sun was gone,
His ear-rings in my hand I held, by the fountain all alone;
And that my mind was o'er the sea, when from my hand they fell,
And that deep his love lies in my heart, as they lie in the well."
THE LAMENTATION FOR CELIN
At the gate of old Granada, when all its bolts are barred,
At twilight at the Vega gate there is a trampling heard;
There is a trampling heard, as of horses treading slow,
And a weeping voice of women, and a heavy sound of woe.
"What tower is fallen, what star is set, what chief come these
bewailing?"
"A tower is fallen, a star is set.
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