The king hath never known me. A virgin true I die. Whate'er I've done, to proud Castille no treason e'er did I. The crown they put upon my head was a crown of blood and sighs, These words she spake, then down she knelt, and took the bowman's blow- After this series, in all the collections we have seen, the greater part of the ballads are altogether Moorish in their subjects, and of these we shall now proceed to give a few specimens. They are every way interesting -but, above all, as monuments, for such we unquestionably consider them to be, of the manners and customs of a noble nation, of whose race no relics now remain on the soil they so long ennobled. Composed originally by a Moor or a Spaniard, (it is often very difficult to determine by which of the two), they were sung in the village greens of Andalusia in either language, but to the same tunes, and listened to with equal pleasure by man, child-mussulman and woman, christian. n these strains, whatever other merits or demerits they may possess, we are, at least, presented with a lively picture of the life of the Arabian Spaniard. We see him as he was in reality, "like steel among weapons, like wax among women." Fuerte qual azero entre armas, Y qual cera entre las damas. There came, indeed, a time when the fondness of the Spaniards for their Moorish ballads was made matter of reproach-but this was not till long after the period when Spanish bravery had won back the last fragments of the peninsula from Moorish hands. It was thus that a Spanish poet of the after day expressed himself. Vayase con Dios Ganzul ! Y el senor Alcayde quiere Y de que repartimoento Que ay Christianos en Espana. But these complaints were not with. out their answer; for says another poem in the Romancero general― Si es espanol Don Rodrigo refer to the period immediately preceThe greater part of these ballads ding the downfall of the throne of court-the bull-feasts and other specGranada-the amours of that splendid tacles in which its lords and ladies delighted no less than those of the Christian courts of Spain-the bloody feuds of the two great Moorish families of the Zegris and the Abencerrages which contributed so largely to the ruin of the Moorish cause-and the incidents of that last war itself, in which the power of the mussulman was entirely overthrown by the arms of Ferdinand and Isabella. But the specimens we give will speak for themselves. To some of our readers it may, perhaps, occur that the part ascribed to Moorish females in these ballads is not always exactly in the oriental taste; but the pictures still extant on the walls of the Alhamra contain abundant proofs how unfair it would be to judge from the manners of any mus sulman nation of our day, to those of the refined and elegant Spanish Moors. As a single example of what we mean, in one of those pictures, engraved in the splendid work of Mr Murphy, a Moorish lady is represented, unveiled, bestowing the prize, after a tourney, on a kneeling Moorish knight. ANDALLA'S BRidal. I. RISE up-rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down, And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpet's lordly blowing, And the tall tall plume of our cousin's bridegroom floats proudly in the air; Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town. II. Arise, arise, Xarifa, I see Andalla's face, He bends him to the people with a calm and princely grace, III. "What aileth thee, Xarifa, what makes thine eyes look down? IV. The Zegri Lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down, Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the Town ;- V. "Why rise ye not, Xarifa, nor lay your cushion down? Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells, and how the people cry,- - "At Zara's gate stops Zara's mate; in him shall I discover The dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and was my lover? I will not rise, with weary eyes, nor lay my cushion down, To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing Town." ZARA'S EAR-RINGS. I. My ear-rings! my ear-rings! they've dropt into the well, 'Twas thus Granada's fountain by, spoke Albuharez' daughter, II. My ear-rings! my ear-rings! they were pearls in silver set, III. My ear-rings! my ear-rings! he'll say they should have been, IV. He'll think when I to market went, I loitered by the way- V. He'll say I am a woman, and we are all the same— VI. I'll tell the truth to Muça, and I hope he will believe- THE BULLFIGHT OF GANZUL. I. KING ALMANZOR of Granada, he hath bid the trumpet sound, He hath summoned all the Moorish Lords, from the hills and plains around; From Vega and Sierra, from Betis and Xenil, They have come with helm and cuirass of gold and twisted steel. II. * 'Tis the holy Baptist's feast they hold in royalty and state, Eight Moorish Lords of valour tried, with stalwart arm and true, The deeds they've done, the spoils they've won, fill all with hope and trust, The day of the Baptist is a festival among the Mussulmans as well as among Christians. IV. Then sounds the trumpet clearly, then clangs the loud tambour, V. And first before the king he passed, with reverence stooping low, VI. With the life-blood of the slaughtered lords all slippery is the sand, And ladies look with heaving breast, and lords with anxious eye, VII. Three bulls against the knight are loosed, and two come roaring on, Each furious beast upon the breast he deals him such a blow, VIII. "Turn, Ganzul, turn," the people cry-the third comes up behind, IX. From Guadiana comes he not, he comes not from Xenil, But where from out the forest burst Xarama's waters clear, X. Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil, XI. Upon the forehead of the bull the horns stand close and near, XII. His legs are short, his hams are thick, his hoofs are black as night, XIII. Now stops the drum-close, close they come-thrice meet, and thrice give back; Once more advance upon his lance-once more, thou fearless one! VOL. VI. 3 Q XIV. Once more, once more ;-in dust and gore to ruin must thou reel- XV. They have slipped a noose around his feet, six horses are brought in, Now stoop thee lady from thy stand, and the ring of price bestow THE LAMENTATION OF GRANADA FOR THE DEATH OF CELIN. I./ AT the gate of old Granada, when all its bolts are barred, What tower is fallen, what star is set, what chief come these bewailing? II. Three times they knock, three times they cry, and wide the doors they throw; Dejectedly they enter, and mournfully they go; In gloomy lines they mustering stand beneath the hollow porch, Each horseman grasping in his hand a black and flaming torch; III. Him yesterday a Moor did slay of Bencerraje's blood, The nobles of the land were there, and the ladies bright and fair IV. Before him ride his vassals, in order two by two, With ashes on their turbans spread most pitiful to view; Between the tambours dismal strokes take up their doleful tale; When stops the muffled drum, ye hear their brotherless bewailing, V. Oh lovely lies he on the bier above the purple pall, The flower of all Granada's youth, the loveliest of them all; His dark dark eyes are closed, his rosy lip is pale, The crust of blood lies black and dim upon his burnished mail, VI. The Moorish maid at the lattice stands, the Moor stands at his door, |