Altho' a thousand times had death dissolved this mortal frame, Soon as thy form before me in radiant beauty came, A thousand times one look of thine had given me back my breath, And called thy lover to thy side even from the gate of death. What boots it, Lindaraja, that I, at Jaen's gate, That unsurrendered city, have met my final fate? What boots it, that this city proud will ne'er the Soldan own, For thee and not for Jaen this hour I make my moan; I weep for Lindaraja, I weep to think that she May mourn a hostage and a slave in long captivity. But worse than this that some proud Moor will take thee to his heart, And all thy thoughts of Reduan new love may bid depart. And dwelling on thy beauty he will deem it better far, To win fair Lindaraja than all the spoils of war, Yet would I pray if Mahomet, whose servant I have been, Should ever from the throne of God look on this bloody scene, And deem it right to all my vows requital fit to make, And for my valor who attacked the town I could not take, That he would make thy constancy as steadfast as the tower Of Jaen's mighty fortress, that withstood the Moorish power; Now as my life be ebbing fast, my spirit is oppressed, And Reduan the warrior bold is sinking to his rest, Oh, may my prayers be answered, if so kind heaven allow, And may the King forgive me for the failure of my vow, And, Lindaraja, may my soul, when it has taken its flight, And for the sweet Elysian fields exchange these realms of night, Contented in the joys and peace of that celestial seat, Await the happy moment when we once more shall meet." THE AGED LOVER