Wanderings in Corsica: Its History and Its Heroes. Vol. 1 of 2Gregorovius, Ferdinand
History
Wanderings in Corsica: Its History and Its Heroes. Vol. 1 of 2
Gregorovius, Ferdinand
Corsica (France) -- Description and travel; Corsica (France) -- History
Know that all who fall in battle,
For the good cause fighting bravely,
Shall to-day in heaven mingle
With the blessed angel-choirs.
The Christians take their position. Flourish of horns. The Moorish
king, Nugalone, and his host issue from Mariana.
Nugalone, O how lightly,
O how gloriously he dances!
Like the tawny spotted panther,
When he dances from his lair.
With his left hand, Nugalone
Curls his moustache, dark and glossy:
Then unto his Paynim warriors
Thus he speaks, the haughty Moor:
Forward! in the name of Allah!
Dance them down, the dogs of Christians!
Show them, as we dance to victory,
Allah is the only God!
Know that all who fall in battle,
Shall to-day in Eden's garden
With the fair immortal maidens
Dance the rapturous houri-dance.
The two armies now file off--the Moorish king gives the signal for
battle, and the figures of the dance begin; there are twelve of them.
Louder music, sharper, clearer!
Nugalone and Colonna
Onward to the charge are springing,
Onward dance their charging hosts.
Lightly to the ruling music
Youthful limbs are rising, falling,
Swaying, bending, like the flower-stalks,
To the music of the breeze.
Now they meet, now gleam the weapons,
Lightly swung, and lightly parried;
Are they swords, or are they sunbeams--
Sunbeams glittering in their hands?
Tones of viol, bolder, fuller!--
Clash and clang of crossing weapons,
Varied tramp of changing movement,
Backward, forward, fast and slow.
Now they dance in circle wheeling,
Moor and Christian intermingled;--
See, the chain of swords is broken,
And in crescents they retire!
Wilder, wilder, the Moresca--
Furious now the sounding onset,
Like the rush of mad sea-billows,
To the music of the storm.
Quit thee bravely, stout Colonna,
Drive the Paynim crew before thee;
We must win our country's freedom
In the battle-dance to-day.
Thus we'll dance down all our tyrants--
Thus we'll dance thy routed armies
Down the hills of Vescovato,
Heaven-accurséd Genoa!
--still new evolutions, till at length they dance the last figure,
called the _resa_, and the Saracen yields.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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