Brave Zaide paces up and down impatiently the street
Where his lady from the balcony is wont her knight to greet,
And he anxiously awaits the hour when she her face will show
Before the open lattice and speak to him below.
The Moor is filled with desperate rage, for he sees the hour is fled
When day by day the dazzling ray of sunlight gilds that head,
And he stops to brood in desperate mood, for her alone he yearns
Can aught soothe the fire of fierce desire with which his bosom burns.
At last he sees her moving with all her wonted grace,
He sees her and he hastens to their old trysting-place;
For as the moon when night is dark and clouds of tempest fly
Rises behind the dim-lit wood and lights the midnight sky,
Or like the sun when tempests with inky clouds prevail,
He merges for one moment and shows his visage pale;
So Zaida on her balcony in gleaming beauty stood,
And the knight for a moment gazed at her and checked his angry mood.
Zaide beneath the balcony with trembling heart drew near;
He halted and with upward glance spoke to his lady dear:
"Fair Moorish maiden, may thy life, by Allah guarded still,
Bring thee the full fruition of that that thou dost will;
And if the servants of thy house, the pages of my hall,
Have lied about thine honor, perdition seize them all;
For they come to me and murmur low and whisper in my ear
That thou wishest to disown me, thy faithful cavalier;
And they say that thou art pledged to one a Moor of wealth and pride,
Who will take thee to his father's house and claim thee as his bride,
For he has come to woo thee from the wide lands of his sire;
And they say that his scimitar is keen and his heart a flame of fire.
And if, fair Zaida, this is true, I kneel before thy feet
Imploring thou wilt tell me true, and fling away deceit;
For all the town is talking, still talking of our love,
And the tongues of slander, to thy blame, to my derision move."
The lady blushed, she bowed her head, then to the Moor replied:
"Dear heart of mine, of all my friends the most undoubted friend,
The time has come our friendship should have an early end;
If all, indeed, these tidings know, as you yourself declare,
Pray tell me who of all the town first laid this secret bare.
For if the life that now I lead continue, I shall die.
'Tis cheered by love, but tortured by hopeless agony.
God only knows why I the sport of cruel fate should be.
God only knows the man who says that I am false to thee.
Thou knowest well that Zaida has loved thee long and true,
Tho' her ancient lineage, Moorish knight, is more than is thy due,
And thou knowest well the loud expostulations of my sire.
Thou knowest how my mother curses me with curses dire
Because I wait for thee by day, for thee by night I wait.
Tho' far thou comest in the eve, yet dost thou tarry late.
They say to hush the common talk 'tis time that I be wed,
And to his home by some fond Moor in bridal veil be led.
Ah! many are the lovely dames, tall and of beauteous face,
Who are burning in Granada to take my envied place.
They look at thee with loving eyes and from the window call;
And, Zaide, thou deservest well the brightest of them all,
For thou thyself thine amorous eyes have turned and yet will turn
Upon the Moorish maidens who for thy embraces burn."
Then with dejected visage the Moor this answer made,
While a thousand thoughts of sorrow his valorous breast invade:
"Ah, little did I think," he said, "and little did I know
That thou, my lovely Zaida, would ever treat me so;
And little did I think thou wouldst have done this cruel deed
And by thy changeful heart would thus have made my heart to bleed.
And this for one unworthy, a man who could not claim
That thou should sacrifice to him thy love, thy life, thy name.
And art thou she who long ago, when evening veiled the sky,
Didst say to me with tender smile from the lofty balcony,
'Zaide, I am thine own, thine own, thine own I still shall be,
And thou the darling of my soul art life itself to me'?"