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Una pena

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Por eso mereces, Rey,

bien dublada;
Que te pierdas tú y el reino,
Y que se pierda Granada.

Ay de mi, Alhania!
Si no se respetan leyes,
Es ley que todo se pierda;
Y que se pierda Granada,
Y que te pierdas en ella.

Ay de mi, Alhama!
Fuego por los ojos vierte,
El Rey que esto oyera,
Y como el otro de leyes
De leyes lambien hablaba.

Ay de mi, Alhama! Sabe un Rey que no hay leyes De darle á Reyes disgusto.Eso dice el Rey moro Relinchando de cólera.

Ay de mi, Alhama !
Moro Alfaqui, Moro Alfaqui,
El de la vellida barba,
El Rey te manda prender,
Por la pérdida de Alhama.

Ay de mi, Alhama !
Y cortarte la cabeza,
Y ponerla en el Alhambra,
Per que á li castigo sea,
Y otros tiemblen en miralla.

Ay de mi, Alhama !
Caballeros, hombres buenos,
Decid de mi partc al Rey,
Al Rey moro de Granada,
Como no le devo nada.

Ay de mi, Alhama !
De aberse Alhama perdido
A mi me pesa en el alma ;
Que si el Rey perdió su tierro
Otro mucho mas perdiera.

Ay de mi, Alhama !
Perdieran hijos padres,
Y casados las casadas:
Las cosas que mas amara
Perdió uno y otro fama.

Ay de mi, Alhama !
Perdi una hija doncella
Que era la flor d'esta tierra;
Cien doblas daba por ella,
No me las estimo en nada.

Ay de mi, Alhama !
Diciendo asi al hacen Alfaqui,
Le cortaron la cabeza,
Y la elevan al Alhainbra,
Asi como el Rey lo manda.

Ay de mi, Alhama!

And to fix thy head upon
High Alhambra's loftiest stone;
That this for thee should be the law,
And others tremble when they saw.

Woe is me, Alhama!

" Cavalier! and man of worth! Let these words of mine go forth; Let the Moorish monarch know, That to him I nothing owe:

Woe is me, Alhama !

“ But on my soul Alhama weighs, And on my inmost spirit preys; And if the king his land hath lost, Yet others may have lost the most.

Woe is me, Alhama !

“Sires have lost their children, wives Their lords, and valiant men their lives, One what best his love might claim Hath lost, another wealth or fame.

Woe is me, Alhama!

u I lost a damsel in that hour, of all the land the loveliest fower, Doubloons a hundred I would pay, And think her ransom cheap that day.”

Woe is me, Alhama!

And as these things the old Moor said, They sever'd from the trunk his head; And to the Alhambra's wail with speed T was carried, as the king decreed.

Woe is me, Alhama!

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Bonetto composto in nome di un genitore, a cui era morta Sonnet composed in the name of a father, whose daughty

poco innanzi una figlia appena maritata; e diretto al geni- had recently died shortly after her marriage; and addressed tore della sacra sposa.

to the father of her who had lately taken the veil. Di due vaghe donzelle, oneste, accorte Of two fair virgins, modest though admired, Lieti e miseri padri il ciel ne fco;

Heaven made us happy, and now, wretched sires Il ciel, che degne di più nobil sorte,

Heaven for a nobler doom their worth desires,
L'una e l'altra veggendo, ambo chiedo And gazing upon either, both required.
La mia fu tolta da veloce morte

Mine, while the torch of Hymen newly fired
A le fumanti tede d' Imeneo:

Becomes extinguish'd, soon—too soon expires.
La tua, Francesco, in sugellate porte

But thine, within the closing grate retired,
Eterna prigioniera or rendeo.

Eternal captive, lo her God aspires.
Ma tu almeno potrai de la gelosa

But thou at least from out the jealous door,
Irremeabil soglia, ove s'asconde

Which shuts between your never-meeting eyes,
La sua tenera udir voce pietos3.

May'st hear her sweet and pious voice once more : Io verso un fiume d'amarissim'onda,

I to the marble, where my daughter lies,
Corro a quel marmo in cui la figlia or posa, Rush,-the swoln flood of bitterness I pour,
Batto e ribatto, ma nessun risponde.

And knock, and knock, and knock-but none replies

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Our guides are gonc, our hope is lost,

And lightnings, as they play,
But show where rocks our path have crosto

Or gild the torrent's spray.
Is yon a cot I saw, though low?

When lightning broke the gloom-
How welcome wore its shade!-ah! no!

"T is but a Turkish tomb.

a

Florence! whom I will love as well

As ever yet was said or sung (Since Orpheus sang his spouse from hell),

Whilst thou art fair and I am young; Sweet Florence! those were pleasant times,

When worlds were staked for ladics' eyes: Had bards as many realms as rhynies,

Thy charms might raisc new Antonies. Though Fate furhids such things to be,

Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curld! I canno: lose a world for thee,

But would not lose tice for a world.

Through sounds of foaming water-falls,

I hear a voice exclain-
My way-worn countryman, who calls

On distant England's name.
A shot is fired-by foc or friend?

Another-'t is to tell
The moun'ain peasants to descend,

And lead us where they dwell.

Oh! who in such a night will dare

'To tempt the wilderness?
And who 'mid thunder-peals can hear

Our signal of distress?
And who that heard our shouts would risc

To try the dubious road?
Nor rather deem from nightly cries

That outlaws were abroad.
Clouds burst, skies flash, oh, dreadful hour!

More fiercely pours the storm!
Yet here one thought has still the power

To keep my bosom warm.
While wandering through each broken path,

O'er brake and craggy brow: While elements exhaust their wrath,

Sweet Florence, where art thou? Not on the sea, not on the sea,

Thy bark hath long been gone : Oh, may the storm that pours on me

Bow down my head alone!
Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc

When last I press'd thy lip;
And long ere now, with foaming shock,

Impell’d thy gallant ship.
Now thou art safe ; nay, long cre now

Hast trod the shore of Spain :
"T were hard ir aught so fair as thou

Should linger on the main. And since I now remember thee

In darkness and in dread,
As in those hours of revelry

Which nurth and niusic sped;
Do thou amidst the fair white walls,

If Cadiz yet be frec,
At times from out her latticed halls

Look o'er the dark-bluc sea;
Then think upon Calypso's isles,

Endear'd by days gone by;
To others give a thousand smiles,

To me a single sigh.
And when the admiring circle mark

The paleness of thy face,
A half-form'd tear, a transient spark

Or melancholy grace,
Again thou 'lt smile, and blushing shun

Some coxcomb's raillery ;
Nor own for once thou thought’st of one,

Who ever thinks on thee.
Though smile and sigh alike are vain,

When sever'd hearts repine;
My spirit Mies o'er mount and main,

And mourns in search of thine.

Yet here, amidst this barren isle,

Where panting nature droops the head,
Where only thou art seen to smile,

I view my parting hour with dread.
Though far from Albin's craggy shore,

Divided by the dark-blue main;
A few, brief, rolling seasons o'er,

Perchance I view her clitfs again :
But wheresoe'er I now may roam,

Through scorching clime and varied sea,
Though time restore me to my home,

I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee:
On thee, in whom at once conspire

All charms which heedless hearts can move,
Whom but to see is to admirc,

And, oh ! forgive the word—to love.
Forgive the word, in one who ne'er

With such a word can more offend;
And since thy heart I cannot share,

Believe me, what I am, thy friend.
And who so cold as look on thee,

Thou lovely wanderer, and be less ?
Nor be, what men should ever be,

The friend of beauty in distress ?
Ah! who would think that form had past

Through danger's most destructive path, Had braved the death-wing'd tempest's blast,

And 'scaped a tyrant's fiercer wrath? Lady! when I shall view the walls

Where free Byzantium once arose; And Stamboul's oriental halls

The Turkish tyrants now enclose; Though mightiest in the lists of fame

That glorious city still shall be;
On me 't will hold a dearer claim

As spot of thy nativity:
And though I bid thee now farewell,

When I behold that wondrous scene,
Since where thou art I may not dwell,

'T will soothe to be where thou hast been.. September, 1809.

WRITTEN AT ATHENS,

JANUARY 16, 1810.
The spell is broke, the charm is flown!

Thus is it with life's fitful fever!
We madly smile when we should groan;

Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought

Recalls the woes of Nature's charter, And he that acts as wise men ought,

But lives, as saints have died, a martyr.

TO *
On Lady! when I left the shore,

The distant shore which gave me birth, I hardly thought to grieve once more,

To quit another spol on erih:

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By those tresses unconfined,
Woo'd by each Ægean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge,
By those wild eyes like the roc,
Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.

WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS

TO ABYDOS,' MAY 9, 1810. IF, in the month of dark December,

Leander, who was nightly wont (What maid will not the tale remember?)

To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont! If, when the wintry tempest roarid,

He sped to Hero, nothing loth, And thus of old thy current pour'd,

Fair Venus! how I pity both! For me, degenerate modern wretch,

Though in the genial month of May, My dripping limbs I faintly stretch,

And think I've done a feat to-day.
But since he cross'd the rapid tide,

According to the doubtful story,
To woor-and-Lord knows what beside,

And swam for love, as I for glory;
'T were hard to say who fared the best :

Sad mortals! thus the gods still plague you! He lost his labour, I ny jest,

For he was drown'd, and I've the ague.

By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist;
By all the token-flowers' that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By love's alternate joy and woe,
Ζώη μου, σας αγαπή.
Maid of Athens! I am gone :
Think of me, sweet! when alone.
Though I fly to Istambol,?
Athens holds my heart and soul:
Can I cease to love thee? No!
Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.

Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.3

ATHENS, 1810.
Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give me back

my

heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,
Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.

TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK

WAR-SONG,

Δεύτε παίδες των Ελλήνων,
Written by Riga, who perished in the attempt to revolutionis
Greece. The following translation is as literal as the autta
could make it in verse; it is of the same measure as that o
the original.
Sons of the Greeks, arise !

The glorious hour's gone forth,
And, worthy of such ties,

Display who gave us birth.

CHORUS. 1 On the 3d of May, 1810, while the Salsette (Captain Bathurst) was lying in the Dardarelles, Lieutenant Ekenhead of that

Sons of Greeks, let us go frigate and the writer of these rhymes swam from the Euro- In arms against the foe, pean shore to the Asiatic-by-the-by, from Abydos to Sestos

Till their hated blood shall flow would bave been more correct. The whole distance from the place whence we started to our landing on the other side, in

In a river past our fect. cluding the length we were carried by the current, was computed by those on board the frigate at upwards of four Eng- Then manfully despising Ash miles; though the actual breadth is barely one. The The Turkish tyrant's yoke, rapidity of the current is such that no buat can row directly acruas, and it may in some measure be estimated from the cir:

Let your country see you rising, cumstance of the whole distance being accomplished by one

And all her chains are broke. of the parties in an hour and five, and by the other in an hour Brave shades of chicfs and sages, Aud ten minutes. The water was extremely cold, from the

Behold the coming strife! melung of the mountain-snows. About three weeks before, en April, we had made an atempt, but having ridden all the

Hellenes of past ages, way from the Troad the same morning, and the water being Oh, start again to life! of an icy chillness, we found it necessary to postpone the At the sound of my trumpet, breaking completion till the frigate anchored below the castles, when Wo swam the strails, as just stated, entering a considerable

Your sleep, oh, join with me! way above the European, and landing below the Asiatic fort.

And the seven-hill'd' city seeking, Chevalier says that a young Jew swam the same distance for Fight, conquer, till we're free. bu mistress; and Oliver mentions its having been done by a

Sons of Greeks, etc. Neapolitan; but our consul, Tarragona, remembered neither of theso circumstances, and tried to dissuade us from the attempt A number of the Salselle's crew were known to have Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers Acconiplished a greater distance, and the only thing that sur- Lethargic dost thou lie ? prwed me was, that, as doubts had been entertained of the truth of leander's story, nu traveller had ever endeavoured to ascer

Awake, and join thy numbers uin its practicability.

With Athens, old ally! 2 Zoe mou. 80s agapo, or Zón voữ, càs åyar, a Romaic expression of tenderness: if I translate it I'shall affront the

I In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest the gentlemen, as it may seem that I supposed they could not; and should scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles, eter if I do not, I may affront the ladies. For fear of any miscon- convey the sentiments of the parties by that universal deput! struction on the part of the latter. I shall do so, begging of Mercury-an old woman. A cinder says, “I burn for the pardon of the learned. It means. “My life, I love you!" which sounds very prer'ily in all languages, and is as much a bunch of flowers tied with hair, " Take me and Ay;' but in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two

pebble declares--what nothing else can. Gint words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic ex

2 Constantinople. previous were all Hellenized.

3 Constantinople. “'Estałodos."

Till happier hours restore the gift

Untainted back to thine.

Leonidas recalling,

That chicf of ancient song, Who saved ye once from falling,

The terrible, the strong!
Who made that bold diversion

In old Thermopylæ,
And warring with the Persian

To keep his country tree;
With his three hundred waging

The battle, long he stood, And, like a lion raging, Expired in seas of blood.

Sons of Greeks, etc.

Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,

An equal love may see:
The tear that from thine eyelid streams

Can weep no change in me.
I ask no pledge to make me blest,

In gazing when alone ;
Nor one memorial for a breast,

Whose thoughts are all thine own.
Nor need I wrid--to tell the tale

My pen were doubly weak: Oh! what can idle words avail,

Unless the heart could speak ?
By day or night, in weal or woe,

That heart, no longer free,
Must bear the love it cannot show,

And silent ache for thee.

TO THYRZA.

TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG,

«Μπενω μες τσπεριβολι

'Ωραίοτατη Χαηδή,” etc. The song from which this is taken is a great favourite with the young girls of Athens of all classes. Their manner of singing it is by verses in rotation, the whole number present joining in the chorus. I have heard it frequently at our “xópoi" in the winter of 1810-11. The air is plaintive and pretiy. I ENTER thy garden of roses,

Beloved and fair Haidée,
Each morning when Flora reposes,

For surely I see her in thee.
Oh, lovely! thus low I implore thee,

Receive this fond truth from my tongue,
Which utters its song to adore thee,

Yet trembles for what it has sung:
As the branch, at the bidding of nature,

Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree,
Through her eyes, through her every feature,

Shines the soul of the young Haidée.
But the loveliest garden grows hateful,

When love has abandon'd the bowers;
Bring me hemlock—since mine is ungrateful,

That herb is more fragrant than flowers.
The poison, when pour'd from the chalice,

Will deeply embitter the bowl ;
But when drunk to escape from thy malice,

The draught shall be sweet to my soul.
Too cruel! in vain I implore thee

My heart from these horrors to save :
Will nought to my bosom restore thee?

Then open the gates of the grave.
As the chief who to combat advances,

Secure of his conquest before,
Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances,

Hast pierced through my heart to its core.
Ah, tell me my soul! must I perish

By pangs which a smile would dispel ? Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish,

For torture repay me too well ? Now sad is the garden of roses,

Beioved but false Haidée! There Flora all wither'd reposes,

And mourns o'er thine absence with me.

WITHOUT a stone to mark the spot,
And say,

what truth might well have said, By all, save one, perchance forgot,

Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid ? By many a shore and many a sea

Divided, yet beloved in vain; The past, the future fled to thee

To bid us meet-no-ne'er again! Could this have been-a word, a look,

That softly said, “We part in peace,Had taught my bosom how to brook,

With fainter sighs, thy soul's releasc. And didst thou not, since death for thee

Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou nc'er shalt see,

Who held, and holds thee in his heart? Oh! who like him had watch'd thee here?

Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere death appear,

When silent sorrow fears to sigh, Till all was past? But when no more

'T was thine to reck of human woe, Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er,

Had flow'd as fast—as now they flow Shall they not flow, when many a day

In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere call'd but for a time away,

Affection's mingling tears were ours? Ours too the glance none saw beside ;

The smile none else might understand; The whisper'd thought of hearts allied,

The pressure of the thrilling hand; The kiss so guiltless and refined,

That love each warmer wish forbore Those eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind,

Even passion blush'd to plead for inoso The tone, that taught me to rejoice,

When prone, unlike thee, to repine, The song celestial from thy voice,

But sweet to me from pone but thine;

ON PARTING CRE kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left, Shall never part froin mine,

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