Zara

"A silvery veil of pure moonlightIs glancing o'er the quiet water,And oh! 'tis beautiful and brightAs the soft smile of Selim's daughter.

"Sleep, moonlight! sleep upon the wave,And hush to rest each rising billow,Then dwell within the mountain cave,Where this fond breast is Zara's pillow.

"Shine on, thou blessed moon! brighter still,Oh, shine thus ever night and morrow;For day-break mantling o'er the hill,But wakes my love to fear and sorrow."

'Twas thus the Spanish youth beguiledThe rising fears of Selim's daughter;And on their loves the pale moon smiled,Unweeting of the morrow's slaughter.

Alas! too early rose that mornOn harnessed knight and fierce soldada—Alas! too soon the Moorish hornAnd tambour rang in Old Grenada.

The dew yet bathes the dreaming flower,The mist yet lingers in the valley,When Selim and his Zegris' powerFrom port and postern sternly sally.

Marry! it was a gallant sightTo see the plain with armour glancing,As on to Alpuxara's heightProud Selim's chivalry were prancing.

The knights dismount; on foot they climbThe rugged steeps of Alpuxara;In fateful and unhappy time,Proud Selim found his long-lost Zara.

They sleep—in sleep they smile and dreamOf happy days they ne'er shall number;Their lips breathe sounds,—their spirits seemTo hold communion while they slumber.

A moment gazed the stern old Moor,A scant tear in his eye did gather,For as he gazed, she muttered o'erA blessing on her cruel father.

The hand that grasped the crooked blade,Relaxed its gripe, then clutched it stronger;The tear that that dark eye hath shedOn the swart cheek, is seen no longer.

'Tis past!—the bloody deed is done,A father's hand hath sealed the slaughter!Yet in Grenada many a oneBewails the fate of Selim's daughter.

And many a Moorish damsel hathMade pilgrimage to Alpuxara;And breathed her vows where Selim's wrathO'ertook the Spanish youth and Zara.