"Cheer up, dark king, and wail no more, Let tears no longer flow; Of Christian men a thousand score Have I to smite thy foe. The king Alfonso greets thee well: Kiss thou the cross, and pray; And ere thou say'st the Ave o'er, The Emir I will slay." I remember thee, Granada! "Or let the African be slain, Or let the Emir slay, I will not kiss the cross of Christ, Nor to his Mother pray. A camel-driver will I live, With Yussef for my lord, Or ere I kiss the Christian's cross, To win the Christian's sword." I remember thee, Granada! "Mohammed, now thou griev'st me much-- Alfonso is my king: But let Suleya kiss the cross, And let her wear the ring. The crucifix the bride shall bear, Her lord shall couch the spear; And still I'll smite thy foe for thee, And for thy daughter dear." I remember thee, Granada! Then up Suleya rose, and spoke,-- "I love Cid Ramon well; But not to win his heart or sword, Will I my faith compel. With Yussef, cruel though he be, A bond-maid will I rove, Or ere I kiss the Christian's cross, To win the Christian's love." I remember thee, Granada! "Suleya! now thou griev'st me much-- A thousand score have I; But, saving for a Christian's life, They dare not strike or die. Alfonso is my king, and thus Commands my king to me: But, for that Christian, _all_ shall strike, If my true love she be." I remember thee, Granada! "Ill loves the love, who, ere he loves, Demands a sacrifice: Who serves myself, must serve my sire, And serve without a price. Let Yussef come with sword and spear, To fetter and to rend; I choose me yet a Moorish foe Before a Christian friend!"-- I remember thee, Granada! "Ill loves the love, who pins his love Upon a point of creed; And balances in selfish doubt, At such a time of need. His heart is loosed, his hands untied, And he shall yet be free To wear the cross, and break the ring, Who will not die for me!" I remember thee, Granada! The Emir's cry went up to heaven: Cid Ramon rode away-- "Ye may not fight, my thousand score, For Christian friend to-day. But tell the king, I bide his hest, Albeit my heart be sore; Of all his troops, I give but _one_ To perish for the Moor." I remember thee, Granada! The Emir's cry went up to heaven; His howling hosts came on; Down fell Sevilla's tottering walls,-- The thousand score were gone. And at the palace-gate, in blood, The Arab Emir raves; He sat upon Mohammed's throne, And look'd upon his slaves. I remember thee, Granada!