A VERY MOURNFUL BALLAD ON THE SIEGE AND CONQUEST OF ALHAMA

The Moorish king rides up and down
Through Granada’s royal town;
From Elvira’s gates to those
Of Bivarambla on he goes.
            Woe is me, Alhama!

Letters to the monarch tell
How Alhama’s city fell;
In the fire the scroll he threw,
And the messenger he slew.
            Woe is me, Alhama!

He quits his mule, and mounts his horse,
And through the street directs his course;
Through the street of Zacatin
To the Alhambra spurring in.
            Woe is me, Alhama!

When the Alhambra walls he gained,
On the moment he ordained
That the trumpet straight should sound,
With the silver clarion round.
            Woe is me, Alhama!

Out then spake an aged Moor
In these words the king before,
«Wherefore call on us, O king?
What may mean this gathering?»
            Woe is me, Alhama!

«Friends! ye have, alas! to know
Of a most disastrous blow,
That the Christians, stern and bold,
Have obtained Alhama’s hold.»
            Woe is me, Alhama!

Out then spake old Alfaqui,
With his beard so white to see,
«Good king, thou art justly served,
Good king, this thou hast deserved.
            Woe is me, Alhama!

«By thee were slain, in evil hour,
The Abencerrage, Granada’s flower;
And strangers were received by thee
Of Cordova the chivalry.
            Woe is me, Albama!

«And for this, O king! is sent
On thee a double chastisement,
Thee and thine, thy crown and realm,
One last wreck shall overwhelm.
            Woe is me, Alhama!»

Fire flashed from out the old Moor’s eyes,
The monarch’s wrath began to rise,
Because he answered, and because
He spake exceeding well of laws.
            Woe is me, Alhama!

«There is no law to say such things
As may disgust the ear of kings:»—
Thus, snorting with his choler, said
The Moorish king, and doomed him dead.
            Woe is me, Alhama!

Moor Alfaqui! Moor Alfaqui!
Though thy beard so hoary be,
The king hath sent to have thee seized,
For Alhama’s loss displeased.
            Woe is me, 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!

And as these things the old Moor said,
They severed from the trunk his head;
And to Alhambra’s wall with speed
’Twas carried as the king decreed.
            Woe is me, Alhama!

And from the windows o’er the walls
The sable web of mourning falls!
The king weeps as a woman o’er
His loss, for it is much and sore.
            Woe is me, Alhama!