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Fuego por los ojos vierte,
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,
Y cortarte la cabeza,
Caballeros, hombres buenos,
De aberse Alhama perdido
Perdieran hijos padres,
Perdi una hija doncella
Ay de mi, Alhama!
Diciendo asi al hacen Alfaqui,
"And for this, oh king! is sent
"He who holds no laws in awe,
He must perish by the law;
Fire flash'd from out the old Moor's eyes,
"There is no law to say such things
Moor Alfaqui! Moor Alfaqui!
And to fix thy head upon
"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
"I lost a damsel in that hour,
And as these things the old Moor said,
Bonetto composto in nome di un genitore, a cui era morta poco innanzi una figlia appena maritata; e diretto al genitore della sacra sposa.
Di due vaghe donzelle, oneste, accorte
A le fumanti tede d' Imeneo:
La tua, Francesco, in sugellate porte
Corro a quel marmo in cui la figlia or posa,
TRANSLATION FROM VITTORELLI.
ON A NUN.
Sonnet composed in the name of a father, whose daughter had recently died shortly after her marriage; and addressed to the father of her who had lately taken the veil.
Or two fair virgins, modest though admired,
Rush, the swoln flood of bitterness I pour,
WRITTEN IN PASSING THE AMBRACIAN GULF,
THROUGH cloudless skies, in silvery sheen,
And now upon the scene I look,
The azure grave of many a Roman; Where stern Ambition once forsook
His wavering crown to follow woman.
Florence! whom I will love as well
Sweet Florence! those were pleasant times,
Thy charms might raise new Antonies.
Though Fate forbids such things to be, Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curl'd!
I cannot lose a world for thee,
But would not lose thee for a world.
Composed October 11th, 1809, during the night, in a thunder storm, when the guides had lost the road to Zitza, near the range of mountains formerly called Pindus, in Albania
CHILL and mirk is the nightly blast,
Our guides are gone, our hope is lost,
But show where rocks our path have crost,
Is yon a cot I saw, though low?
When lightning broke the gloomHow welcome were its shade!-ah! no "T is but a Turkish tomb.
Through sounds of foaming water-falls,
A shot is fired-by foe or friend?
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:
Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc
When last I press'd thy lip;
Now thou art safe; nay, long cre now
And since I now remember thee
Which murth and music sped;
Do thou amidst the fair white walls,
At times from out her latticed halls
Then think upon Calypso's isles,
And when the admiring circle mark
A half-form'd tear, a transient spark
Again thou 'It smile, and blushing shun
Some coxcomb's raillery ;
Nor own for once thou thought'st of one,
Though smile and sigh alike are vain,
On Lady! when I left the shore,
Yet here, amidst this barren isle,
I view my parting hour with dread.
All charms which heedless hearts can move,
And, oh! forgive the word-to love.
With such a word can more offend;
The friend of beauty in distress?
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.
THE spell is broke, the charm is flown!
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.
WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE.
Though now of love and thec bereft,
But this, I feel, can ne'er be true:
WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS
TO ABYDOS, MAY 9, 1810.
IF, in the month of dark December,
To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont!
Though in the genial month of May,
And think I've done a feat to-day.
According to the doubtful story,
"T were hard to say who fared the best:
For he was drown'd, and I've the ague.
Ζώη μου, σὰς ἀγαπῶ.
MAID of Athens, ere we part,
Ζώη μου, σὰς ἀγαπῶ.
On the 3d of May, 1810, while the Salsette (Captain Bathurst) was lying in the Dardanelles, Lieutenant Ekenhead of that frigate and the writer of these rhymes swam from the European shore to the Asiatic-by-the-by, from Abydos to Sestos would have been more correct. The whole distance from the place whence we started to our landing on the other side, ineluding the length we were carried by the current, was computed by those on board the frigate at upwards of four Engfish miles; though the actual breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the current is such that no boat can row directly across, and it may in some measure be estimated from the cir cumstance of the whole distance being accomplished by one of the parties in an hour and five, and by the other in an hour and ten minutes. The water was extremely cold, from the melting of the mountain-snows. About three weeks before, en April, we had made an attempt, but having ridden all the way from the Troad the same morning, and the water being of an icy chillness, we found it necessary to postpone the completion till the frigate anchored below the castles, when wo awam the straits, as just stated, entering a considerable way above the European, and landing below the Asiatic fort. Chevalier says that a young Jew swam the same distance for bis mistress; and Oiver mentions its having been done by a Neapolitan; but our consul, Tarragona, remembered neither of these circumstances, and tried to dissuade us from the attempt. A number of the Salsette's crew were known to have accomplished a greater distance; and the only thing that surprised me was, that, as doubts had been entertained of the truth of Leander's story, no traveller had ever endeavoured to ascerLain its practicability.
By those tresses unconfined,
By that lip I long to taste;
Maid of Athens! I am gone:
Think of me, sweet! when alone.-
TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK
Δεῦτε παῖδες τῶν Ἑλλήνων,
Written by Riga, who perished in the attempt to revolutionim Greece. The following translation is as literal as the autho 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,
Sons of Greeks, let us go
In arms against the foe,
Then manfully despising
The Turkish tyrant's yoke,
And all her chains are broke.
Oh, start again to life!
At the sound of my trumpet, breaking
Sons of Greeks, etc.
Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers
Lethargic dost thou lie ?
Zoe mou, sas agapo, or Zón uov, càs ȧyan@, a Romaic expression of tenderness: if I translate it I shall affront the 1 In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they gentlemen, as it may seem that I supposed they could not; and should scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles, etc., if I do not, I may affront the ladies. For fear of any miscon-convey the sentiments of the parties by that universal deputy 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!" a bunch of flowers tied with hair, "Take me and fly; but which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much pebble declares-what nothing else can. in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two first words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic expressions were all Hellenized.
3 Constantinople. "Enraλodos."
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 "Xópoɩ” in the winter of 1810-11. The air is plaintive and pretty.
I ENTER thy garden of roses,
Yet trembles for what it has sung:
Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree,
My heart from these horrors to save:
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, Beloved but false Haidée! There Flora all wither'd reposes,
And mourns o'er thine absence with me.
ON PARTING. CHE kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left, Shall never part from mine,
Till happier hours restore the gift Untainted back to thine.
Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, An equal love may see:
The tear that from thine eyelid streams
I ask no pledge to make me blest,
Nor need I write-to tell the tale
By day or night, in weal or woe,
WITHOUT a stone to mark the spot,
Divided, yet beloved in vain;
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 release. And didst thou not, since death for thee
Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou ne'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
Affection's mingling tears were ours?
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 more The tone, that taught me to rejoice, When prone, unlike thee, to repine, The song celestial from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but thine;