And as he rode into the town and galloped to the square, Upon the balconies he saw bright dames with faces bare; They stood, they gazed with eyes of love and gestures of delight, For they joyed to see among them so stout, so fair a knight. And all of Baza's people with cries his coming greet, And follow at his horse's tail from street to crowded street. His heart with gratitude was filled, his bosom filled with pride, And with doffed bonnet, lo, he bowed and once again he cried: "And, Fortune, do thy worst; it is not meant, By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment." They led him to the warden's house, and there was feasting high. Brave men and beauteous women in crowds were standing by. The trumpets blew in merry strain, the Moorish horns resound, And the strain of joy was echoed from every castle round. And from his colt dismounting he laid his lance aside, And greeted all the multitude that filled the plaza wide. Then to the strong tower of the place he hurried from the street, And as he went a thousand times his lips would still repeat: "And, Fortune, do thy worst; it is not meant, By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment." ZAIDE'S LOVE Then Zaide stood enraptured and gazed with placid eye, For the moment when his heart's desire should be fulfilled was nigh. Propitious was the moment, and happy was the hour, When all that he had longed for had come into his power. And he said: "Thrice happy is the wall, and happy is the bar, Tho' from my fond embraces, Zaida, it keeps thee far; For long as thou shalt live on earth, my Zaida, thou art mine; And the heart that in my bosom beats, long as it beats, is thine. And happy is the green, green sod on which thy feet are set, For the pressure of thy tender foot the grass shall ne'er forget, Shall ne'er forget the white, white heel that o'er the pathway came, Leaving behind it, everywhere, the print of snow and flame. But far more happy is the knight, if e'er should Allah send To this dark separation a bright and peaceful end. For seems to me the hours that pass, without thy presence dear, Wear the dark robe of sorrow, that orphaned children wear. I seek to have thee with me, for it is only to the weak That the happiness is wanting that they do not dare to seek. And if the doom of death is ours, it will not haste the more Because we scorn to think of it upon this happy shore. But ere it come, that doom of death which fills us with alarms, May Allah grant to me the boon of resting in thine arms! And if, in that supremest bliss, fate favors my design, And love is crowned, the lot of life contented I resign. O darling Zaida, blest is he, 'mid thousands, who can say That on that bosom, in those arms he for one moment lay! Come, darling, to thy Zaide's side, and yield to him thy love; Thou knowest him brave and good and kind, all other knights above;