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High Alhambra's loftiest stone;

That this for thee should be the law,
And others tremble when they saw.

Woe is me, Alhama!

17.

"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!

18.

"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!

19.

"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!

20.

Perdi una hija donzella
Que era la flor d' esta tierra,
Cien doblas dava por ella,
No me las estimo en nada.

Ay de mi, Alhama!

21.

Diziendo assi al hacen Alfaqui,
Le cortaron la cabeça,

Y la elevan al Alhambra,

Assi come el Rey lo manda.

Ay de mi, Alhama!

22.

Hombres, niños y mugeres,
Lloran tan grande perdida.
Lloravan todas las damas

Quantas en Granada avia.

Ay de mi, Alhama!

23.

Por las calles y ventanas
Mucho luto parecia ;

Llora el Rey como fembra,

Qu' es mucho lo que perdia.

Ay de mi, Alhama!

20.

"I lost a damsel in that hour,

"Of all the land the loveliest flower; “Doubloons a hundred I would pay, “And think her ransom cheap that day.” Woe is me, Alhama !

21.

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

22.

And men and infants therein weep
Their loss, so heavy and so deep;
Granada's ladies, all she rears

Within her walls, burst into tears.

Woe is me, Alhama!

23.

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!

SONETTO DI VITTORELLI.

PER MONACA.

Sonetto composto in nome di un genitore, a cui era morta poco innanzi una figlia appena maritata; è diretto al genitore della sacra sposa.

Di due vaghe donzelle, oneste, accorte

Lieti e miseri padri il ciel ne feo,

Il ciel, che degne di più nobil sorte

L' una e l' altra veggendo, ambo chiedeo. La mia fu tolta da veloce morte

A le fumanti tede d' imeneo :

La tua, Francesco, in sugellate porte
Eterna prigioniera or si rendeo.
Ma tu almeno potrai de la gelosa
Irremeabil soglia, ove s' asconde,
La sua tenera udir voce pietosa.
Io verso un fiume d'amarissim' onda,

Corro a quel marmo, in cui la figlia or posa,
Batto, e ribatto, ma nessun risponde.

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.

Of two fair virgins, modest, though admired,

Heaven made us happy; and now, wretched sires, Heaven for a nobler doom their worth desires, And gazing upon either, both required. Mine, while the torch of Hymen newly fired Becomes extinguish'd, soon-too soon-expires: But thine, within the closing grate retired, Eternal captive, to 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: I to the marble, where my daughter lies,

Rush, the swoln flood of bitterness I pour,

And knock, and knock, and knock—but none replies.

VOL. V.

T

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