When on the surges of the main it feels the favoring wind. We'll launch it from the sloping shore, and, when the wind is high, And the fierce billows threatening mix their foam-tops with the sky, We'll lower the mainsail, lest the storm should carry us away, And sweep us on the reefs that lurk in some deep Afric bay. And on the lofty topmast shall this inscription stand, Written in letters which they use in every Christian land: 'This ship is tossed in many a storm, it lands on many a shore, And the wide sea, beneath the wind, it swiftly travels o'er; 'Tis like the human heart which brings no treasure and no gain, Till, tossed by hard misfortune, it has known the sea of pain.' And let there be upon the fringe round this inscription hung Another legend which shall say in the Arabian tongue: 'Oh, might it be that Allah, the merciful, would send To all my captive miseries a swift and happy end.'" The countess said: "To build this ship methinks would please me well, Such tasks the sorrows of thy heart might lighten or dispel; And, Zara, when the summer comes, and winds and floods are free, We'll build our bark, we'll hoist our sail, and start across the sea." HAMETE ALI Hamete Ali on his way toward the city goes, His tunic is a brilliant green with stripes of crimson rose, In sign that no despondency this daring wanderer knows. His arm, that wears the twisted steel, reflects the sunlight sheen, And bound to it by many a knot is hung his hood of green. And o'er his bonnet azure-blue, two feathery plumes there fly; The one is green as the summer and one is blue as sky. He does not wear these hues to show that he is passion's slave, They are emblems of the life that beats within his bosom brave. Yet dusky is his lance's hue and dusky is his shield, On which are serpents scattered upon a golden field. Their venomed tongues are quivering and ears before them stand, To show how slanderous hearts can spread their poison o'er the land. A lettered motto in the midst which everyone may read, Is written in Arabian script, ah! good that all should heed! "'Tis naught but innocence of heart can save me from the blow With which the slanderous serpents would lay their victim low." Upon a piebald colt he rode along the valley's side, The bravest of the valiant Moors and once Granada's pride. In furious rage descending from bold Ubeda's steep, He crossed the vale and mounted to Baza's castle keep. Defiant still of Fortune's power, his thoughts at last found vent, For Fortune had been cruel, and in words of discontent, As if he blamed the serpent upon his shield displayed, The torrent of his heart broke forth and in wrath the warrior said: "O wasters of the brightest hope I knew in years long past! O clouds by which the blazing sun of bliss is overcast! O blight of love, O ruin of aspirations pure! Vile worms, that gnaw and waste away the treasures most secure!