"This law, which now your Highness Has on your lieges laid, I like it not, though many hearts It has exultant made. "Me only does it grieve, and bring Disaster on my life; For the lady that I love the best, Is already wedded wife; "Wedded she is, wedded amiss; Ill husband has she got. And oft does pity fill my heart For her distressful lot. "And this one thing I tell thee, King, To none else has it been told: If I think her love is silver, She thinks my love is gold." Then spake Rey Bucar in reply, This sentence uttered he: "If thy love be wedded wife, the law Hath no penalty for thee." ALMANZOR AND BOBALIAS The King Almanzor slept one night, And, oh! his sleep was blest; Not all the seven Moorish kings Could dare to break his rest. The infante Bobalias Bethought of him and cried: "Now rouse thee, rouse thee, uncle dear! And hasten to my side. "And bid them fetch the ladders Owned by my sire the King; And the seven mules that carry them Into my presence bring. "And give to me the seven stout Moors Who shall their harness set, For the love, the love of the countess I never can forget." "Ill-mannered art thou, nephew, And never wilt amend; The sweetest sleep I ever slept, Thou bringest to an end." Now they have brought the ladders Owned by his sire the King. And, to bear the load along the road, Seven sturdy mules they bring; And seven stout Moors, by whom the mules In housings are arrayed. And to the walls of the countess Their journey have they made. There, at the foot of yonder tower, They halt their cavalcade. In the arms of the count Alminique The countess lay at rest; The infante has ta'en her by the hand, And caught her to his breast. THE MOORISH INFANTA AND ALFONZO RAMOS Beneath the shade of an olive-tree Stood the infanta fair; A golden comb was in her hands, And well she decked her hair. To heaven she raised her eyes, and saw, That early morning-tide, A clump of spears and an armored band From Guadalquivir ride. Alfonzo Ramos with them came, The admiral of Castile. "Now welcome, Alfonzo Ramos! Now welcome, steed and steel, What tidings do you bring of my fleet, What tidings of woe or weal?" "I'll tell thee tidings, lady, If my life thou wilt assure." "Tell on, Alfonzo Ramos, Thy life shall be secure." "Seville, Seville has fallen, To the arms of the Berber Moor." "But for my word thy head this day To the vultures had been tost!" "If head of mine were forfeited, Tis thine must pay the cost." THE BULL-FIGHT OF ZULEMA