Una pena Por eso mereces, Rey, bien dublada; Ay de mi, Alhania! Ay de mi, Alhama! 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 ! Ay de mi, Alhama ! Ay de mi, Alhama ! Ay de mi, Alhama ! Ay de mi, Alhama ! Ay de mi, Alhama ! Ay de mi, Alhama ! Ay de mi, Alhama! And to fix thy head upon 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! 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, Mine, while the torch of Hymen newly fired Becomes extinguish'd, soon—too soon expires. But thine, within the closing grate retired, Eternal captive, lo her God aspires. But thou at least from out the jealous door, Which shuts between your never-meeting eyes, 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, And knock, and knock, and knock-but none replies Our guides are gonc, our hope is lost, And lightnings, as they play, Or gild the torrent's spray. When lightning broke the gloom- "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- On distant England's name. Another-'t is to tell And lead us where they dwell. Oh! who in such a night will dare 'To tempt the wilderness? Our signal of distress? To try the dubious road? That outlaws were abroad. More fiercely pours the storm! To keep my bosom warm. 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! When last I press'd thy lip; Impell’d thy gallant ship. Hast trod the shore of Spain : Should linger on the main. And since I now remember thee In darkness and in dread, Which nurth and niusic sped; If Cadiz yet be frec, Look o'er the dark-bluc sea; Endear'd by days gone by; To me a single sigh. The paleness of thy face, Or melancholy grace, Some coxcomb's raillery ; Who ever thinks on thee. When sever'd hearts repine; And mourns in search of thine. Yet here, amidst this barren isle, Where panting nature droops the head, I view my parting hour with dread. Divided by the dark-blue main; Perchance I view her clitfs again : Through scorching clime and varied sea, I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee: All charms which heedless hearts can move, And, oh ! forgive the word—to love. With such a word can more offend; Believe me, what I am, thy friend. Thou lovely wanderer, and be less ? The friend of beauty in distress ? 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; As spot of thy nativity: When I behold that wondrous scene, 'T will soothe to be where thou hast been.. September, 1809. WRITTEN AT ATHENS, JANUARY 16, 1810. Thus is it with life's fitful fever! 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 * The distant shore which gave me birth, I hardly thought to grieve once more, To quit another spol on erih: By those tresses unconfined, 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. According to the doubtful story, And swam for love, as I for glory; 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; Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.3 ATHENS, 1810. my heart! TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK WAR-SONG, Δεύτε παίδες των Ελλήνων, The glorious hour's gone forth, 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! In old Thermopylæ, To keep his country tree; 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: Can weep no change in me. In gazing when alone ; Whose thoughts are all thine own. My pen were doubly weak: Oh! what can idle words avail, Unless the heart could speak ? That heart, no longer free, And silent ache for thee. TO THYRZA. TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG, «Μπενω μες τσ’ περιβολι '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, For surely I see her in thee. Receive this fond truth from my tongue, Yet trembles for what it has sung: Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree, Shines the soul of the young Haidée. When love has abandon'd the bowers; That herb is more fragrant than flowers. Will deeply embitter the bowl ; The draught shall be sweet to my soul. My heart from these horrors to save : Then open the gates of the grave. Secure of his conquest before, Hast pierced through my heart to its core. 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, 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, |