“Because thine eyes are beautiful, Because the morning’s blushing light From them arises to the East, And gilds the whole world bright. “From thy lips smiles are flowing, From thy tongue gentle peace, Light and aërial as the course Of the purple morning’s breeze. “O! lovely Nazarene, how choice! For an Eastern harem’s pride, Those dark locks waving freely Thy crystal neck beside. “Upon a couch of velvet, I n a cloud of perfumed air, Wrapp’d in the white and flowing veil Of Mahomet’s daughters fair. “O, Lady! come to Cordova, There Sultana thou shalt be, And the Sultan there, Sultana, Shall be but a slave for thee. “Such riches he will give thee, And such robes of Tunisine, That thou wilt judge thy beauty, To repay him for them, mean.” * * * * * O! Lady of the dark head-dress! That him a kiss of thee might bless, Resign a realm Boabdil would! But I for that, fair Christian, fain Would give of heavens, and think it gain, A thousand if I only could. THE CAPTIVE. I go, fair Nazarene, tomorrow To queenly Cordova again; Then thou, my song of love and sorrow To hear, no longer mayst complain, Sung to the compass of my chain. When home the Christians shall return, In triumph o’er the Moorish foe, My cruel destiny wouldst thou learn? The history of my loves to know, The blood upon their hands shall show. Better it were at once to close, In this dark tower a captive here, The life I suffer now of woes, Than that today thou sett’st me clear; Alas! thou sell’st it very dear. Adieu! tomorrow o’er, thy slave May never vex thy soul again, But vain is all the hope it gave: Still must I bear the captive’s chain, Thine eyes my prison still remain. Fair Christian! baleful is my star; What values it this life to me, If I must bear it from thee far? Nor in Granada’s bowers may be, Nor, my fair Cordova, with thee? Today’s bright sun to me will seem A lamp unseasonably by: Daughter of Spain, thy beauties gleam Alone my sun and moon on high, The dawn and brightness of my sky. Since then I lose thy light today, Without that light I cannot live! To Cordova I take my way; But in the doom my fortunes give, Alas! ’tis death that I receive. A paradise and houri fair Has Mahomet promised we shall prove: Aye, thou wilt be an angel there, And in that blissful realm above We meet again, and there to love. THE TOWER OF MUNION.