Canto III

Felicia Hemans (1793–1835) · 1808–1835

iambic pentameter · heroic couplets · 625 lines · from Poems

“Fermossi al fin il cor che balzo tanto.”Hippolito Pindemonte.

Heroes of elder days! untaught to yield,Who bled for Spain on many an ancient field;Ye that around the oaken cross of yoreStood firm and fearless on Asturia’s shore,And with your spirit, ne’er to be subdued,Hallow’d the wild Cantabrian solitude;Rejoice amidst your dwellings of repose,In the last chastening of your Moslem foes!Rejoice!--for Spain, arising in her strength,Hath burst the remnant of their yoke at length,And they, in turn, the cup of woe must drain,And bathe their fetters with their tears in vain.And thou, the warrior born in happy hour,Valencia’s lord, whose name alone was power,Theme of a thousand songs in days gone by,Conqueror of kings! exult, O Cid! on high;For still ’twas thine to guard thy country’s weal,In life, in death, the watcher for Castile!

Thou, in that hour when Mauritania’s bandsRush’d from their palmy groves and burning lands,E’en in the realm of spirits didst retainA patriot’s vigilance, remembering Spain!Then at deep midnight rose the mighty sound,By Leon heard in shuddering awe profound,As through her echoing streets, in dread array,Beings once mortal held their viewless way--Voices from worlds we know not--and the treadOf marching hosts, the armies of the dead,Thou and thy buried chieftains: from the graveThen did thy summons rouse a king to save,And join thy warriors with unearthly mightTo aid the rescue in Tolosa’s fight.Those days are past--the crescent on thy shore,O realm of evening! sets, to rise no more.What banner streams afar from Vela’s tower?The cross, bright ensign of Iberia’s power!What the glad shout of each exulting voice?“Castile and Aragon! rejoice, rejoice!”Yielding free entrance to victorious foes,The Moorish city sees her gates unclose,And Spain’s proud host, with pennon, shield, and lance,Through her long streets in knightly garb advance.

Oh! ne’er in lofty dreams hath Fancy’s eyeDwelt on a scene of statelier pageantry,At joust or tourney, theme of poet’s lore,High masque or solemn festival of yore.The gilded cupolas, that proudly riseO’erarch’d by cloudless and cerulean skies;Tall minarets, shining mosques, barbaric towers,Fountains and palaces, and cypress bowers:And they, the splendid and triumphant throng,With helmets glittering as they move along,With broider’d scarf and gem-bestudded mail,And graceful plumage streaming on the gale;Shields, gold-emboss’d, and pennons floating far,And all the gorgeous blazonry of war,All brighten’d by the rich transparent huesThat southern suns o’er heaven and earth diffuse--Blend in one scene of glory, form’d to throwO’er memory’s page a never-fading glow,And there, too, foremost midst the conquering brave,Your azure plumes, O Aben-Zurrahs! wave.There Hamet moves; the chief whose lofty portSeems nor reproach to shun, nor praise to court;Calm, stern, collected--yet within his breastIs there no pang, no struggle, unconfess’d?If such there be, it still must dwell unseen,Nor cloud a triumph with a sufferer’s mien.

Hear’st thou the solemn yet exulting soundOf the deep anthem floating far around?The choral voices, to the skies that raiseThe full majestic harmony of praise?Lo! where, surrounded by their princely train,They come, the sovereigns of rejoicing Spain,Borne on their trophied car--lo! bursting thenceA blaze of chivalrous magnificence!

Onward their slow and stately course they bendTo where th’ Alhambra’s ancient towers ascend,Rear’d and adorn’d by Moorish kings of yore,Whose lost descendants there shall dwell no more.

They reach those towers--irregularly vastAnd rude they seem, in mould barbaric cast:They enter--to their wondering sight is givenA genii palace--an Arabian heaven!A scene by magic raised, so strange, so fair,Its forms and colour seem alike of air.Here, by sweet orange-boughs half shaded o’er,The deep clear bath reveals its marble floor,Its margin fringed with flowers, whose glowing huesThe calm transparence of its wave suffuse.There round the court, where Moorish arches bend,Aërial columns, richly deck’d, ascend;Unlike the models of each classic race,Of Doric grandeur or Corinthian grace,But answering well each vision that portraysArabian splendour to the poet’s gaze:Wild, wondrous, brilliant, all--a mingling glowOf rainbow-tints, above, around, below;Bright streaming from the many-tinctured veinsOf precious marble, and the vivid stainsOf rich mosaics o’er the light arcade,In gay festoons and fairy knots display’d.On through th’ enchanted realm, that only seemsMeet for the radiant creatures of our dreams,The royal conquerors pass--while still their sightOn some new wonder dwells with fresh delight.Here the eye roves through slender colonnades,O’er bowery terraces and myrtle shades;Dark olive-woods beyond, and far on highThe vast sierra mingling with the sky.There, scattering far around their diamond spray,Clear streams from founts of alabaster play,Through pillar’d halls, where, exquisitely wrought,Rich arabesques, with glittering foliage fraught,Surmount each fretted arch, and lend the sceneA wild, romantic, oriental mien:While many a verse, from eastern bards of old,Borders the walls in characters of gold.Here Moslem luxury, in her own domain,Hath held for ages her voluptuous reignMidst gorgeous domes, where soon shall silence brood,And all be lone--a splendid solitude.Now wake their echoes to a thousand songs,From mingling voices of exulting throngs;Tambour and flute, and atabal are there,And joyous clarions pealing on the air;While every hall resounds, “Granada won!Granada! for Castile and Aragon!”

’Tis night--from dome and tower, in dazzling maze,The festal lamps innumerably blaze;Through long arcades their quivering lustre gleams,From every lattice tremulously streams,Midst orange-gardens plays on fount and rill,And gilds the waves of Darro and Xenil;Red flame the torches on each minaret’s height,And shines each street an avenue of light;And midnight feasts are held, and music’s voiceThrough the long night still summons to rejoice.

Yet there, while all would seem to heedless eyeOne blaze of pomp, one burst of revelry,Are hearts unsoothed by those delusive hours,Gall’d by the chain, though deck’d awhile with flowers;Stern passions working in th’ indignant breast,Deep pangs untold, high feelings unexpress’d,Heroic spirits, unsubmitting yet--Vengeance and keen remorse, and vain regret.

From yon proud height, whose olive-shaded browCommands the wide luxuriant plains below,Who lingering gazes o’er the lovely scene,Anguish and shame contending in his mienHe who of heroes and of kings the son,Hath lived to lose whate’er his fathers won;Whose doubts and fears his people’s fate have seal’d,Wavering alike in council and in field;Weak, timid ruler of the wise and brave,Still a fierce tyrant or a yielding slave.

Far from these vine-clad hills and azure skies,To Afric’s wilds the royal exile flies;Yet pauses on his way to weep in vainO’er all he never must behold again.Fair spreads the scene around--for him too fair,Each glowing charm but deepens his despair.The Vega’s meads, the city’s glittering spires,The old majestic palace of his sires,The gay pavilions and retired alcoves,Bosom’d in citron and pomegranate groves;Tower-crested rocks, and streams that wind in light,All in one moment bursting on his sight,Speak to his soul of glory’s vanish’d years,And wake the source of unavailing tears.--Weep’st thou, Abdallah?--Thou dost well to weep,O feeble heart! o’er all thou couldst not keep!Well do a woman’s tears befit the eyeOf him who knew not as a man to die.

The gale sighs mournfully through Zayda’s bower,The hand is gone that nursed each infant flower.No voice, no step, is in her father’s halls,Mute are the echoes of their marble walls;No stranger enters at the chieftain’s gate,But all is hush’d, and void, and desolate.

There, through each tower and solitary shade,In vain doth Hamet seek the Zegri maid:Her grove is silent, her pavilion lone,Her lute forsaken, and her doom unknown;And through the scene she loved, unheeded flowsThe stream whose music lull’d her to repose.

But oh! to him, whose self-accusing thoughtWhispers ’twas he that desolation wrought;He who his country and his faith betray’d,And lent Castile revengeful, powerful aid;A voice of sorrow swells in every gale,Each wave low rippling tells a mournful tale:And as the shrubs, untended, unconfined,In wild exuberance rustle to the wind,Each leaf hath language to his startled sense,And seems to murmur--“Thou hast driven her hence!”And well he feels to trace her flight were vain,--Where hath lost love been once recall’d again?In her pure breast, so long by anguish torn,His name can rouse no feeling now--but scorn.O bitter hour! when first the shuddering heartWakes to behold the void within--and start!To feel its own abandonment, and broodO’er the chill bosom’s depth of solitude.The stormy passions that in Hamet’s breastHave sway’d so long, so fiercely, are at rest;The avenger’s task is closed:--he finds too lateIt hath not changed his feelings, but his fate.He was a lofty spirit, turn’d asideFrom its bright path by woes, and wrongs, and pride,And onward, in its new tumultuous course,Borne with too rapid and intense a forceTo pause one moment in the dread career,And ask if such could be its native sphere.Now are those days of wild delirium o’er,Their fears and hopes excite his soul no more;The feverish energies of passion close,And his heart sinks in desolate repose,Turns sickening from the world, yet shrinks not lessFrom its own deep and utter loneliness.

There is a sound of voices on the air,A flash of armour to the sunbeam’s glare,Midst the wild Alpuxarras;--there, on high,Where mountain-snows are mingling with the sky,A few brave tribes, with spirits yet unbroke,Have fled indignant from the Spaniard’s yoke.

O ye dread scenes! where nature dwells alone,Severely glorious on her craggy throne;Ye citadels of rock, gigantic forms,Veil’d by the mists and girdled by the storms,--Ravines, and glens, and deep resounding caves,That hold communion with the torrent-waves;And ye, th’ unstain’d and everlasting snows,That dwell above in bright and still repose;To you, in every clime, in every age,Far from the tyrant’s or the conqueror’s rage,Hath Freedom led her sons--untired to keepHer fearless vigils on the barren steep.She, like the mountain-eagle, still delightsTo gaze exulting from unconquer’d heights,And build her eyrie in defiance proud,To dare the wind, and mingle with the cloud.

Now her deep voice, the soul’s awakener, swells,Wild Alpuxarras! through your inmost dells.There, the dark glens and lonely rocks among,As at the clarion’s call, her children throng.She with enduring strength has nerved each frame,And made each heart the temple of her flame,Her own resisting spirit, which shall glowUnquenchably, surviving all below.

There high-born maids, that moved upon the earthMore like bright creatures of aërial birth,Nurslings of palaces, have fled to shareThe fate of brothers and of sires; to bear,All undismay’d, privation and distress,And smile the roses of the wilderness:And mothers with their infants, there to dwellIn the deep forest or the cavern cell,And rear their offspring midst the rocks, to be,If now no more the mighty, still the free.

And midst that band are veterans, o’er whose headSorrows and years their mingled snow have shed:They saw thy glory, they have wept thy fall,O royal city! and the wreck of allThey loved and hallow’d most:--doth aught remainFor these to prove of happiness or pain?Life’s cup is drain’d--earth fades before their eye;Their task is closing--they have but to die.Ask ye why fled they hither?--that their doomMight be, to sink unfetter’d to the tomb.And youth, in all its pride of strength, is there,And buoyancy of spirit, form’d to dareAnd suffer all things--fall’n on evil days,Yet darting o’er the world an ardent gaze,As on the arena where its powers may findFull scope to strive for glory with mankind.Such are the tenants of the mountain-hold,The high in heart, unconquer’d, uncontroll’d:By day, the huntsmen of the wild--by night,Unwearied guardians of the watch-fire’s light,They from their bleak majestic home have caughtA sterner tone of unsubmitting thought,While all around them bids the soul ariseTo blend with nature’s dread sublimities.--But these are lofty dreams, and must not beWhere tyranny is near:--the bended knee,The eye whose glance no inborn grandeur fires,And the tamed heart, are tributes she requires;Nor must the dwellers of the rock look downOn regal conquerors, and defy their frown.What warrior-band is toiling to exploreThe mountain-pass, with pine-wood shadow’d o’er,Startling with martial sounds each rude recess,Where the deep echo slept in loneliness?These are the sons of Spain!--Your foes are near,O exiles of the wild sierra! hear!Hear! wake! arise! and from your inmost cavesPour like the torrent in its might of waves!

Who leads the invaders on?--his features bearThe deep-worn traces of a calm despair;Yet his dark brow is haughty--and his eyeSpeaks of a soul that asks not sympathy.’Tis he! ’tis he again! the apostate chief;He comes in all the sternness of his grief.He comes, but changed in heart, no more to wieldFalchion for proud Castile in battle-field,Against his country’s children though he leadsCastilian bands again to hostile deeds:His hope is but from ceaseless pangs to fly,To rush upon the Moslem spears, and die.So shall remorse and love the heart release,Which dares not dream of joy, but sighs for peace.The mountain-echoes are awake--a soundOf strife is ringing through the rocks around.Within the steep defile that winds betweenCliffs piled on cliffs, a dark, terrific scene,Where Moorish exile and Castilian knightAre wildly mingling in the serried fight.Red flows the foaming streamlet of the glen,Whose bright transparence ne’er was stain’d till then;While swell the war-note and the clash of spearsTo the bleak dwellings of the mountaineers,Where thy sad daughters, lost Granada! waitIn dread suspense the tidings of their fate.But he--whose spirit, panting for its rest,Would fain each sword concentrate in his breast--Who, where a spear is pointed, or a lanceAim’d at another’s breast, would still advance--Courts death in vain; each weapon glances by,As if for him ’twere bliss too great to die.Yes, Aben-Zurrah! there are deeper woesReserved for thee ere nature’s last repose;Thou know’st not yet what vengeance fate can wreak,Nor all the heart can suffer ere it break.Doubtful and long the strife, and bravely fellThe sons of battle in that narrow dell;Youth in its light of beauty there hath pass’d,And age, the weary, found repose at last;Till, few and faint, the Moslem tribes recoil,Borne down by numbers and o’erpower’d by toil.Dispersed, dishearten’d, through the pass they fly,Pierce the deep wood, or mount the cliff on high;While Hamet’s band in wonder gaze, nor dareTrack o’er their dizzy path the footsteps of despair.

Yet he, to whom each danger hath becomeA dark delight, and every wild a home,Still urges onward--undismay’d to treadWhere life’s fond lovers would recoil with dread.But fear is’ for the happy--they may shrinkFrom the steep precipice or torrent’s brink;They to whom earth is paradise--their doomLends no stern courage to approach the tomb:Not such his lot, who, school’d by fate severe,Were but too blest if aught remain’d to fear.Up the rude crags, whose giant masses throwEternal shadows o’er the glen below;And by the fall, whose many-tinctured sprayHalf in a mist of radiance veils its way,He holds his venturous track:--supported nowBy some o’erhanging pine or ilex bough;Now by some jutting stone, that seems to dwellHalf in mid-air, as balanced by a spell.Now hath his footstep gain’d the summit’s head,A level span, with emerald verdure spread,A fairy circle--there the heath-flowers rise,And the rock-rose unnoticed blooms and dies;And brightly plays the stream, ere yet its tideIn foam and thunder cleave the mountain side:But all is wild beyond--and Hamet’s eyeRoves o’er a world of rude sublimity.That dell beneath, where e’en at noon of dayEarth’s charter’d guest, the sunbeam, scarce can stray;Around, untrodden woods; and far above,Where mortal footstep ne’er may hope to rove,Bare granite cliffs, whose fix’d, inherent dyesRival the tints that float o’er summer skies:And the pure glittering snow-realm, yet more high,That seems a part of heaven’s eternity.

There is no track of man where Hamet stands,Pathless the scene as Lybia’s desert sands;Yet on the calm still air a sound is heardOf distant voices, and the gathering-wordOf Islam’s tribes, now faint and fainter grown,Now but the lingering echo of a tone.

That sound, whose cadence dies upon his ear,He follows, reckless if his bands are near.On by the rushing stream his way he bends,And through the mountain’s forest zone ascends;Piercing the still and solitary shadesOf ancient pine, and dark luxuriant glades,Eternal twilight’s reign:--those mazes past,The glowing sunbeams meet his eyes at last,And the lone wanderer now hath reach’d the sourceWhence the wave gushes, foaming on its course.But there he pauses--for the lonely sceneTowers in such dread magnificence of mien,And, mingled oft with some wild eagle’s cry,From rock-built eyrie rushing to the sky,So deep the solemn and majestic soundOf forests, and of waters murmuring round--That, rapt in wondering awe, his heart forgetsIts fleeting struggles and its vain regrets.--What earthly feeling unabash’d can dwellIn nature’s mighty presence?--midst the swellOf everlasting hills, the roar of floods,And frown of rocks, and pomp of waving woods?These their own grandeur on the soul impress,And bid each passion feel its nothingness.

Midst the vast marble cliffs, a lofty caveRears its broad arch beside the rushing wave;Shadow’d by giant oaks, and rude and lone,It seems the temple of some power unknown,Where earthly being may not dare intrudeTo pierce the secrets of the solitude.Yet thence at intervals a voice of wailIs rising, wild and solemn, on the gale.Did thy heart thrill, O Hamet! at the tone?Came it not o’er thee as a spirit’s moan?As some loved sound that long from earth had fled,The unforgotten accents of the dead!E’en thus it rose--and springing from his tranceHis eager footsteps to the sound advance.He mounts the cliffs, he gains the cavern floor;Its dark green moss with blood is sprinkled o’erHe rushes on--and lo! where Zayda rendsHer locks, as o’er her slaughter’d sire she bends,Lost in despair;--yet, as a step draws nigh,Disturbing sorrow’s lonely sanctity,She lifts her head, and, all-subdued by grief,Views with a wild sad smile the once-loved chief;While rove her thoughts, unconscious of the past,And every woe forgetting--but the last.

“Com’st thou to weep with me?--for I am leftAlone on earth, of every tie bereft.Low lies the warrior on his blood-stain’d bier;His child may call, but he no more shall hear.He sleeps--but never shall those eyes unclose;’Twas not my voice that lull’d him to repose;Nor can it break his slumbers.--Dost thou mourn?And is thy heart, like mine, with anguish torn?Weep, and my soul a joy in grief shall know,That o’er his grave my tears with Hamet’s flow?”

But scarce her voice had breathed that well-known name,When, swiftly rushing o’er her spirit, cameEach dark remembrance--by affliction’s powerAwhile effaced in that o’erwhelming hour,To wake with tenfold strength: ’twas then her eyeResumed its light, her mien its majesty,And o’er her wasted cheek a burning glowSpreads, while her lips’ indignant accents flow.

“Away! I dream! Oh, how hath sorrow’s mightBow’d down my soul, and quench’d its native light--That I should thus forget! and bid thy tearWith mine be mingled o’er a father’s bier!Did he not perish, haply by thy hand,In the last combat with thy ruthless band?The morn beheld that conflict of despair:--’Twas then he fell--he fell!--and thou wert there!Thou! who thy country’s children hast pursuedTo their last refuge midst these mountains rude.Was it for this I loved thee?--Thou hast taughtMy soul all grief, all bitterness of thought!’Twill soon be past--I bow to heaven’s decree,Which bade each pang be minister’d by thee.”

“I had not deem’d that aught remain’d belowFor me to prove of yet untasted woe;But thus to meet thee, Zayda! can impartOne more, one keener agony of heart.Oh, hear me yet!--I would have died to saveMy foe, but still thy father, from the grave;But in the fierce confusion of the strife,In my own stern despair and scorn of life,Borne wildly on, I saw not, knew not aught,Save that to perish there in vain I sought.And let me share thy sorrows!--hadst thou knownAll I have felt in silence and alone,E’en thou mightst then relent, and deem, at last,A grief like mine might expiate all the past

“But oh! for thee, the loved and precious flower,So fondly rear’d in luxury’s guarded bower,From every danger, every storm secured,How hast thou suffer’d! what hast thou endured!Daughter of palaces! and can it beThat this bleak desert is a home for thee!These rocks thy dwelling! thou, who shouldst have knownOf life the sunbeam and the smile alone!Oh, yet forgive!--be all my guilt forgot,Nor bid me leave thee to so rude a lot!”

“That lot is fix’d--’twere fruitless to repine:Still must a gulf divide my fate from thine.I may forgive--but not at will the heartCan bid its dark remembrances depart.No, Hamet! no!--too deeply are these traced;Yet the hour comes when all shall be effaced!Not long on earth, not long, shall Zayda keepHer lonely vigils o’er the grave to weep.E’en now, prophetic of my early doom,Speaks to my soul a presage of the tomb;And ne’er in vain did hopeless mourner feelThat deep foreboding o’er the bosom steal!Soon shall I slumber calmly by the sideOf him for whom I lived, and would have died;Till then, one thought shall soothe my orphan lot,In pain and peril--I forsook him not.

“And now, farewell!--behold the summer-dayIs passing, like the dreams of life, away.Soon will the tribe of him who sleeps draw nigh,With the last rites his bier to sanctify.Oh, yet in time, away!--’twere not my prayerCould move their hearts a foe like thee to spare!This hour they come--and dost thou scorn to fly?Save me that one last pang--to see thee die!”E’en while she speaks is heard their echoing tread;Onward they move, the kindred of the dead.They reach the cave--they enter--slow their pace,And calm deep sadness marks each mourner’s face;And all is hush’d, till he who seems to waitIn silent stern devotedness his fate,Hath met their glance--then grief to fury turns:Each mien is changed, each eye indignant burns,And voices rise, and swords have left their sheath.Blood must atone for blood, and death for death!They close around him: lofty still his mien,His cheek unalter’d, and his brow serene.Unheard, or heard in vain, is Zayda’s cry;Fruitless her prayer, unmark’d her agony.But as his foremost foes their weapons bendAgainst the life he seeks not to defend,Wildly she darts between--each feeling past,Save strong affection, which prevails at last.Oh, not in vain its daring!--for the blowAim’d at his heart hath bade her life-blood flow;And she hath sunk a martyr on the breastWhere in that hour her head may calmly rest,For he is saved! Behold the Zegri band,Pale with dismay and grief, around her stand:While, every thought of hate and vengeance o’er,They weep for her who soon shall weep no more.She, she alone is calm:--a fading smile,Like sunset, passes o’er her cheek the while;And in her eye, ere yet it closes, dwellThose last faint rays, the parting soul’s farewell.

“Now is the conflict past, and I have provedHow well, how deeply thou hast been beloved!Yes! in an hour like this ’twere vain to hideThe heart so long and so severely tried:Still to thy name that heart hath fondly thrill’d,But sterner duties call’d--and were fulfill’d.And I am blest!--To every holier tieMy life was faithful,--and for thee I die!Nor shall the love so purified be vain;Sever’d on earth, we yet shall meet again.Farewell!--And ye, at Zayda’s dying prayer,Spare him, my kindred tribe! forgive and spare!Oh! be his guilt forgotten in his woes,While I, beside my sire, in peace repose.”

Now fades her cheek, her voice hath sunk, and deathSits in her eye, and struggles in her breath.One pang--’tis past--her task on earth is done,And the pure spirit to its rest hath flown.But he for whom she died--oh! who may paintThe grief to which all other woes were faint?There is no power in language to impartThe deeper pangs, the ordeals of the heart,By the dread Searcher of the soul survey’d:These have no words--nor are by words portray’d.

A dirge is rising on the mountain-air,Whose fitful swells its plaintive murmurs bearFar o’er the Alpuxarras;--wild its tone,And rocks and caverns echo, “Thou art gone!”

“Daughter of heroes! thou art goneTo share his tomb who gave thee birth:Peace to the lovely spirit flown!It was not form’d for earth.Thou wert a sunbeam in thy race,Which brightly pass’d and left no trace.

“But calmly sleep!--for thou art free,And hands unchain’d thy tomb shall raise.Sleep! they are closed at length for thee,Life’s few and evil days!Nor shalt thou watch, with tearful eye,The lingering death of liberty.

“Flower of the desert! thou thy bloomDidst early to the storm resign:We bear it still--and dark their doomWho cannot weep for thine!For us, whose every hope is fled,The time is past to mourn the dead.

“The days have been, when o’er thy bierFar other strains than these had flow’d;Now, as a home from grief and fear,We hail thy dark abode!We, who but linger to bequeathOur sons the choice of chains or death.

“Thou art with those, the free, the brave,The mighty of departed years;And for the slumberers of the graveOur fate hath left no tears.Though loved and lost, to weep were vainFor thee, who ne’er shalt weep again.

“Have we not seen despoil’d by foesThe land our fathers won of yore?And is there yet a pang for thoseWho gaze on this no more?Oh, that like them ’twere ours to rest!Daughter of heroes! thou art blest!”

A few short year’s, and in the lonely caveWhere sleeps the Zegri maid, is Hamet’s grave.Sever’d in life, united in the tomb--Such, of the hearts that loved so well, the doom!Their dirge, of woods and waves th’ eternal moan;Their sepulchre, the pine-clad rocks alone.And oft beside the midnight watch-fire’s blaze,Amidst those rocks, in long-departed days,(When freedom fled, to hold, sequester’d there,The stern and lofty councils of despair,)Some exiled Moor, a warrior of the wild,Who the lone hours with mournful strains beguiled,Hath taught his mountain-home the tale of thoseWho thus have suffer’d, and who thus repose.

“El rey mandò, que si quedavan Zegris, que no viviessen enGranada, por la maldad qui hizieron contra los Abencerrages.”--GuerrasCiviles de Granada.

Words in this poem 136

oaken a.: Made or consisting of oaks or of the wood of oaks. [AS. acen.]
yore adv.: In time long past; in old time; long since. [OE. , yare, , AS. geára;akin to geár a year, E. year. Year.]
hallow v. t.: To make holy; to set apart for holy or religious use; to consecrate; to treat or keep as sacred; to reverence. [OE. halowen, halwien, halgien, AS. halgian, fr. halig holy. See Holy.]
cantabrian a.: Of or pertaining to Cantabria on the Bay of Biscay in Spain.
amidst prep.: In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
watcher n.: One who watches; one who sits up or continues; a diligent observer; specifically, one who attends upon the sick during the night.
palmy a.: Bearing palms; abounding in palms; derived from palms; as, a palmy shore.
didst: , the 2d pers. sing. imp. of Do.
viewless a.: Not perceivable by the eye; invisible; unseen.
unearthly a.: Not terrestrial; supernatural; preternatural; hence, weird; appalling; terrific; as, an unearthly sight or sound.
afar adv.: At, to, or from a great distance; far away; -- often used with from preceding, or off following; as, he was seen from afar; I saw him afar off. [Pref. a-.(for on or of) + far.]
exulting a.: Rejoicing triumphantly or exceedingly; exultant.
pennon n.: A wing; a pinion. [Cf. Pinion.]
knightly a.: Of or pertaining to a knight; becoming a knight; chivalrous; as, a knightly combat; a knightly spirit. [AS. cnihtlic boyish.]
garb n.: External appearance, as expressive of the feelings or character; looks; fashion or manner, as of speech. [OF. garbe looks, countenance, grace, ornament, fr. OHG. garawi, garwi, ornament, dress. akin to E. gear. See Gear, n.]
pageantry n.: Scenic shows or spectacles, taken collectivelly; spectacular guality; splendor.
tourney v. i.: To perform in tournaments; to tilt. [Cf.OF. torneier. See Tourney, n.]
masque n.: A mask; a masquerade.
cloudless a.: Without a cloud; clear; bright.
cerulean a.: Sky-colored; blue; azure. [L. caeruleus.]
barbaric a.: Of, or from, barbarian nations; foreign; -- often with reference to barbarous nations of east. [L. barbaricus foreign, barbaric, Gr. .]
streaming a.: Sending forth streams.
gorgeous a.: Imposing through splendid or various colors; showy; fine; magnificent. [OF. gorgias beautiful, glorious, vain, luxurious; cf. OF. gorgias ruff, neck handkerchief, and F. gorge throat, and se pengorger to assume airs. Cf. Gorge, n.]
brighten v. t.: To make bright or brighter; to make to shine; to increase the luster of; to give a brighter hue to.
fading n.: An Irish dance; also, the burden of a song.
dwell v. i.: To delay; to linger. [OE. dwellen, dwelien, to err, linger, AS. dwellan to deceive, hinder, delay, dwelian to err; akin to Icel. dvelja to delay, tarry, Sw. dväljas to dwell, Dan. dv]
unseen a.: Not seen or discovered.
sufferer n.: One who suffers; one who endures or undergoes suffering; one who sustains inconvenience or loss; as, sufferers by poverty or sickness; men are sufferers by fire or by losses at sea.
anthem v. t.: To celebrate with anthems.
choral a.: Of or pertaining to a choir or chorus; singing, sung, or adapted to be sung, in chorus or harmony. Choral service, a service of song. [LL. choralis, fr. L. chorus. See Chorus.]
trophied a.: Adorned with trophies.
magnificence n.: The act of doing what magnificent; the state or quality of being magnificent. Acts xix. 27. [F. magnificence, L. magnificentia. See Magnific.]
alhambra n.: The palace of the Moorish kings at Granada. [Ultimately fr. Ar. al the + hamra red; i. e., the red (sc. house).]
shall v. i.: To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
mould n.: Crumbling, soft, friable earth; esp., earth containing the remains or constituents of organic matter, and suited to the growth of plants; soil. [OE. molde, AS. molde; akin to D. mul, G. mull, mulm, OHG. molt, molta, Icel. mold, Dan. muld, Sw. mull, Goth. mulda, and E. meal flour. See Meal, and cf. Mole a]
transparence n.: The quality or state of being transparent; transparency. [Cf. F. transparence.]
suffuse v. t.: To overspread, as with a fluid or tincture; to fill or cover, as with something fluid; as, eyes suffused with tears; cheeks suffused with blushes. [L. suffusus, p.p. of suffundere to overspread; sub under + fundere to pour. See Fuse to melt.]
classic a.: Of or relating to the first class or rank, especially in literature or art. [L. classicus relating to the classes of the Roman people, and especially to the frist class; hence, of the first rank, superior, from classis class: cf. F. clas]
splendour n.: Great brightness; brilliant luster; brilliancy; as, the splendor ot the sun. B. Jonson. [L. fr. splendere to shine: cf. F. splendeur.]
wondrous adv.: In a wonderful or surprising manner or degree; wonderfully. [OE. wonders, adv. (later also adj.). See Wonder, n., and cf. -wards.]
enchanted a.: Under the power of enchantment; possessed or exercised by enchanters; as, an enchanted castle.
bowery a.: Shading, like a bower; full of bowers.
sierra n.: A ridge of mountain and craggy rocks, with a serrated or irregular outline; as, the Sierra Nevada. [Sp., properly, a saw, fr. L. serra a saw. See Serrate.]
exquisitely adv.: In an exquisite manner or degree; as, lace exquisitely wrought.
fraught n.: A freight; a cargo. [OE.fraight, fraght; akin to Dan. fragt, Sw. frakt, D. vracht, G. fracht, cf. OHG. fr merit, reward; perh. from corresponding to E. for + The root of E. own. Cf.]
lone n.: A lane. See Loanin.
tambour n.: A kind of small flat drum; a tambourine.
atabal n.: A kettledrum; a kind of tabor, used by the Moors. Croly. [Sp. atabal, fr. Ar. at-tabl the drum, tabala to beat the drum. Cf. Tymbal.]
maze n.: A wild fancy; a confused notion. [OE. mase; cf. OE. masen to confuse, puzzle, Norweg. masast to fall into a slumber, masa to be continually busy, prate, chatter, Icel. masa to chatter, dial. Sw.]
festal a.: Of or pertaining to a holiday or a feast; joyous; festive. [L. festum holiday, feast. See feast.]
lustre n.: A period of five years; a lustrum. [L. lustrum: cf. F. lustre.]
rill n.: A very small brook; a streamlet. [Cf. LG. rille a small channel or brook, a furrow, a chamfer, OE. rigol a small brook, F. rigole a trench or furrow for water, W. rhill a row, rhigol a little di]
minaret n.: A slender, lofty tower attached to a mosque and surrounded by one or more projecting balconies, from which the summon to prayer is cried by the muezzin. [Sp. minarete, Ar. manarat lamp, lantern, lighthouse, turret, fr. nar to shine.]
avenue n.: A way or opening for entrance into a place; a passage by which a place may by reached; a way of approach or of exit. [F. avenue, fr. avenir to come to, L. advenire. See Advene.]
awhile adv.: For a while; for some time; for a short time. [Adj. a + while time, interval.]
indignant a.: Affected with indignation; wrathful; passionate; irate; feeling wrath, as when a person is exasperated by unworthy or unjust treatment, by a mean action, or by a degrading accusation. [L. indignans, -antis, p. pr. of indignari to be indignant, disdain. See Indign.]
untold a.: Not told; not related; not revealed; as, untold secrets.
clad v.: To clothe. Holland.
vega n.: A brilliant star of the first magnitude, the brightest of those constituting the constellation Lyra. [Ar. w, properly, falling: cf. F. Wéga.]
pavilion n.: A temporary movable habitation; a large tent; a marquee; esp., a tent raised on posts. [F. pavillon, fr. L. pavilio a butterfly, also, a tent, because spread out like a butterfly's wings.]
lull v. t.: To cause to rest by soothing influences; to compose; to calm; to soothe; to quiet. [Akin to OD. lullen to sing to sleep, G. lullen, Dan. lulle, Sw. lulla; all of imitative origin. Cf. Loll, Lollard.]
desolation n.: The act of desolating or laying waste; destruction of inhabitants; depopulation. [F. désolation, L. desolatio.]
rustle v. i.: To make a quick succession of small sounds, like the rubbing or moving of silk cloth or dry leaves. [AS. hristlan to rustle; or cf. Sw. rusta to stir, make a riot, or E. rush, v.]
hast: , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
career n.: A race course: the ground run over. [F. carrière race course, high road, street, fr. L. carrus wagon. See Car.]
sickening a.: Causing sickness; specif., causing surfeit or disgust; nauseating.
loneliness n.: The condition of being lonely; solitude; seclusion.
armour n.: Defensive arms for the body; any clothing or covering worn to protect one's person in battle. [OE. armure, fr. F. armure, OF. armeure, fr. L. armatura. See Armature.]
sunbeam n.: A beam or ray of the sun. [AS. sunnebeam.]
glare v. i.: To shine with a bright, dazzling light. [OE. glaren, gloren; cf. AS. glær amber, LG. glaren to glow or burn like coals, D. gloren to glimmer; prob. akin to E. glass.]
glorious a.: Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
clime n.: A climate; a tract or region of the earth. See Climate. [L. clima. See Climate.]
eyrie n.: The nest of a bird of prey or other large bird that builds in a lofty place; aerie. [See Aerie]
awakener n.: One who, or that which, awakens.
inmost a.: Deepest within; farthest from the surface or external part; innermost. [OE. innemest, AS. innemest, a double superlative form fr. inne within, fr. in in. The modern form is due to confusion with most. See In, and cf. Aftermost, Fore]
clarion n.: A kind of trumpet, whose note is clear and shrill. [OE. clarioun, OF. clarion, F. clairon, LL. clario, claro; so called from its clear tone, fr. L. clarus clear. See Clear.]
surviving a.: Remaining alive; yet living or existing; as, surviving friends; surviving customs.
aught n.: Property; possession. [AS. , fr. agan to own, p. p. ahte.]
unwearied a.: Not wearied; not fatigued or tired; hence, persistent; not tiring or wearying; indefatigable.
sterner n.: A director. Dr. R. Clerke. [See 3d Stern.]
defy v. t.: To renounce or dissolve all bonds of affiance, faith, or obligation with; to reject, refuse, or renounce. [F. défier, OF. deffier, desfier, LL. disfidare to disown faith or fidelity, to dissolve the bond of allegiance, as between the vassal and his lord; hence, to ch]
explore v. t.: To seek for or after; to strive to attain by search; to look wisely and carefully for. [L. explorare to explore; ex out+plorare to cry out aloud,prob. orig., to cause to flow; perh. akin to E. flow: cf. F. explorer.]
haughty a.: High; lofty; bold. [OE. hautein, F. hautain, fr. haut high, OF. also halt, fr. L. altus. See Altitude.]
sternness n.: The quality or state of being stern.
wield v. t.: To govern; to rule; to keep, or have in charge; also, to possess. [OE. welden to govern, to have power over, to possess, AS. geweldan, gewyldan, from wealdan; akin to OS. waldan, OFries. walda, G. walten, OHG. waltan, Icel. val]
falchion n.: A broad-bladed sword, slightly curved, shorter and lighter than the ordinary sword; -- used in the Middle Ages. [OE. fauchon, OF. fauchon, LL. fälcio, fr. L. falx, falcis, a sickle, cf. Gr. falcon; cf. It. falcione. Cf. Defalcation.]
castilian n.: An inhabitant or native of Castile, in Spain. [Sp. castellano, from Castila, NL. Castilia, Castella. Castile, which received its name from the castles erected on the frontiers as a barrier against the Moors.]
ceaseless a.: Without pause or end; incessant.
strife n.: The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
piled a.: Having a pile or point; pointed. [From 2d Pile.]
serried a.: Crowded; compact; dense; pressed together. [See Serry.]
streamlet n.: A small stream; a rivulet; a rill.
fain v. t.: To be glad ; to wish or desire.
wreak v. i.: To reck; to care.
bravely adv.: In a brave manner; courageously; gallantly; valiantly; splendidly; nobly.
dell n.: A small, retired valley; a ravine. [AS. del, akin to E. dale; cf. D. delle, del, low ground. See Dale.]
precipice n.: A sudden or headlong fall. Fuller. [F. précipice, L. praecipitium, fr. praeceps, - cipitis, headlong; prae before + caput, capitis, the head. See Pre-, and Chief.]
brink n.: The edge, margin, or border of a steep place, as of a precipice; a bank or edge, as of a river or pit; a verge; a border; as, the brink of a chasm. Also Fig. [Dan. brink edge, verge; akin to Sw. brink declivity, hill, Icel. brekka; cf. LG. brink a grassy hill, W. bryn hill, bryncyn hillock.]
venturous a.: Daring; bold; hardy; fearless; venturesome; adveturous; as, a venturous soldier. [Aphetic form of OE. aventurous. See Adventurous, Venture, n.]
jutting a.: Projecting, as corbels, cornices, etc.
sublimity n.: The quality or state of being sublime (in any sense of the adjective). [L. sublimitas: cf. F. sublimité.]
scarce a.: Not plentiful or abundant; in small quantity in proportion to the demand; not easily to be procured; rare; uncommon. [OE. scars, OF. escars, eschars, LL. scarpsus, for L. excerptus, p. p. of excerpere to pick out, and hence to contract, to shorten; ex (see Ex-) + carpere. See C]
pathless a.: Having no beaten path or way; untrodden; impenetrable; as, pathless woods.
islam n.: The religion of the Mohammedans; Mohammedanism; Islamism. Their formula of faith is: There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet. [Ar. islam obedience to the will of God, submission, humbling one's self, resigning one's self to the divine disposal. Cf. Moslem.]
rapt n.: An ecstasy; a trance. Bp. Morton. [From F. rapt abduction, rape, L. raptus, fr. rapere to seize and carry off, to transport; or fr. E. rapt, a. See Rapt, a., and Rapid.]
sire n.: A lord, master, or other person in authority. See Sir. [F. sire, originally, an older person. See Sir.]
bier n.: A handbarrow or portable frame on which a corpse is placed or borne to the grave. [OE. bæe, beere, AS. b, b; akin to D. baar, OHG. bara, G. bahre, Icel barar, Dbaare, L. feretrum, Gr. , from the same bear to produce. See 1st Bear, and cf. Barr]
haply adv.: By hap, chance, luck, or accident; perhaps; it may be.
ruthless a.: Having no ruth; cruel; pitiless.
morn n.: The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
twill v. i.: To weave, as cloth, so as to produce the appearance of diagonal lines or ribs on the surface. [Scotch tweel; probably from LG. twillen to make double, from twi- two; akin to AS. twi-, E. twi- in twilight. See Twice, and cf. Tweed, Tweel.]
bade: A form of the pat tense of Bid.
deem v. t.: To decide; to judge; to sentence; to condemn. [OE. demen to judge, condemn, AS. d, fr. d doom; akin to OFries. d, OS. ad, D. doemen, OHG. tuommen, Icel. dæma, Sw. dömma, Dan. dömme, Goth. d. See Doom, n., an]
keener n.: A professional mourner who wails at a funeral. [Ireland]
relent v. i.: To become less rigid or hard; to yield; to dissolve; to melt; to deliquesce. [F. ralentir, fr. L. pref. re- re- + ad to + lentus pliant, flexible, slow. See Lithe.]
fondly adv.: Foolishly. Verstegan (1673).
fruitless a.: Lacking, or not bearing, fruit; barren; destitute of offspring; as, a fruitless tree or shrub; a fruitless marriage.
repine v. i.: To fail; to wane. [Pref. re- + pine to languish.]
depart v. i.: To part; to divide; to separate. [OE. departen to divide, part, depart, F. départir to divide, distribute, se départir to separate one's self, depart; pref. dé- (L. de) + partir to part, depart,]
mourner n.: One who mourns or is grieved at any misfortune, as the death of a friend.
soothe v. t.: To assent to as true. Testament of Love. [Originally, to assent to as true; OE. so to verify, AS. ges to prove the truth of, to bear witness. See Sooth, a.]
sanctify v. t.: To make sacred or holy; to set apart to a holy or religious use; to consecrate by appropriate rites; to hallow. [F. sanctifier, L. sanctificare; sanctus holy + - ficare (in comp.) to make. See Saint, and -fy.]
sadness n.: Heaviness; firmness.
atone v. t.: To set at one; to reduce to concord; to reconcile, as parties at variance; to appease.
unheard a.: Not heard; not perceived by the ear; as, words unheard by those present.
flown a.: Flushed, inflated.
dirge n.: A piece of music of a mournful character, to accompany funeral rites; a funeral hymn. [Contraction of Lat. dirige, direct thou (imperative of dirigere), the first word of a funeral hymn (Lat. transl. of Psalm v. 8) beginning, "Dirige, Domine, in c]
fitful a.: Full of fits; irregularly variable; impulsive and unstable. [From 7th Fit.]
unchain v. t.: To free from chains or slavery; to let loose. Prior. [1st pref. un- + chain.]
shalt: 2d per. sing. of Shall.
tearful a.: Abounding with tears; weeping; shedding tears; as, tearful eyes.
abode n.: Act of waiting; delay. [OE. abad, abood, fr. abiden to abide. See Abide. For the change of vowel, cf. abode, imp. of abide.]
bequeath v. t.: To give or leave by will; to give by testament; -- said especially of personal property. [OE. biquethen, AS. becwe to say, affirm, bequeath; pref. be- + cwe to say, speak. See Quoth.]
sepulchre n.: The place in which the dead body of a human being is interred, or a place set apart for that purpose; a grave; a tomb. [OE. sepulcre, OF. sepulcre, F. sépulcre, fr. L. sepulcrum, sepulchrum, fr. sepelire to bury.]
mand n.: A demand. See Demand.
contra: A Latin adverb and preposition, signifying against, contrary, in opposition, etc., entering as a prefix into the composition of many English words. Cf. Counter, adv. & pref.

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

Canto III is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Felicia Hemans, Project Gutenberg ebook #66785; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: Felicia Hemans, Canto III, in Poems (1808–1835), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hemans-poems/canto-iii.html, id L13485.

Form and metre

Canto III is 625 lines in 42 verse paragraphs. It is in rhyming couplets, 84% of the lines: heroic couplets. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.9 syllables. 28 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 24% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.

See other poems in heroic couplets, other poems in iambic pentameter.

Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.

Rhyme words, stanza by stanza

The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.

2 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHH-- yield^A · field^A · yore^B · shore^B · subdued^C · solitude^C · repose^D · foes^D · strength^E · length^E · drain^F · vain^F · hour^G · power^G · by^H · high^H · weal · castile
3 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKKLL bands^A · lands^A · retain^B · spain^B · sound^C · profound^C · array^D · way^D · tread^E · dead^E · grave^F · save^F · might^G · fight^G · shore^H · more^H · tower^I · power^I · voice^J · rejoice^J · foes^K · unclose^K · lance^L · advance^L
4 --AABBCCDDEE-AFFGGHHII--JJ eye · pageantry · lore^A · yore^A · rise^B · skies^B · towers^C · bowers^C · throng^D · along^D · mail^E · gale^E · far · war^A · hues^F · diffuse^F · throw^G · glow^G · brave^H · wave^H · port^I · court^I · breast · unconfess'd · unseen^J · mien^J
5 AABBCCDD sound^A · around^A · raise^B · praise^B · train^C · spain^C · thence^D · magnificence^D
6 AABB bend^A · ascend^A · yore^B · more^B
7 AA--BB--CCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKKLLMMNNOOPPQQRRSSTTUU-- vast^A · cast^A · given · heaven · fair^B · air^B · o'er · floor · hues^C · suffuse^C · bend^D · ascend^D · race^E · grace^E · portrays^F · gaze^F · glow^G · below^G · veins^H · stains^H · arcade^I · display'd^I · seems^J · dreams^J · sight^K · delight^K · colonnades^L · shades^L · high^M · sky^M · spray^N · play^N · wrought^O · fraught^O · scene^P · mien^P · old^Q · gold^Q · domain^R · reign^R · brood^S · solitude^S · songs^T · throngs^T · there^U · air^U · won · aragon
8 AABBCCDDEE maze^A · blaze^A · gleams^B · streams^B · rill^C · xenil^C · height^D · light^D · voice^E · rejoice^E
9 --AA--BB eye · revelry · hours^A · flowers^A · breast · unexpress'd · yet^B · regret^B
10 --AABBCCDD brow · below · scene^A · mien^A · son^B · won^B · seal'd^C · field^C · brave^D · slave^D
11 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHII skies^A · flies^A · vain^B · again^B · fair^C · despair^C · spires^D · sires^D · alcoves^E · groves^E · light^F · sight^F · years^G · tears^G · weep^H · keep^H · eye^I · die^I
12 AABBCC bower^A · flower^A · halls^B · walls^B · gate^C · desolate^C
13 AABBCC shade^A · maid^A · lone^B · unknown^B · flows^C · repose^C
14 AABBCCDDEE--FFGGHHIIJJKKLLMM--N-NN thought^A · wrought^A · betray'd^B · aid^B · gale^C · tale^C · unconfined^D · wind^D · sense^E · hence^E · vain · again · torn^F · scorn^F · heart^G · start^G · brood^H · solitude^H · breast^I · rest^I · late^J · fate^J · aside^K · pride^K · course^L · force^L · career^M · sphere^M · o'er · more · close^N · repose · less^N · loneliness^N
15 AABBCC air^A · glare^A · high^B · sky^B · unbroke^C · yoke^C
16 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHH alone^A · throne^A · forms^B · storms^B · caves^C · waves^C · snows^D · repose^D · age^E · rage^E · keep^F · steep^F · delights^G · heights^G · proud^H · cloud^H
17 AA--BBCC swells^A · dells^A · among · throng · frame^B · flame^B · glow^C · below^C
18 AABBCCDDEE earth^A · birth^A · share^B · bear^B · distress^C · wilderness^C · dwell^D · cell^D · be^E · free^E
19 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJ--K-LLKKMM--NNOOPP head^A · shed^A · fall^B · all^B · remain^C · pain^C · eye^D · die^D · doom^E · tomb^E · there^F · dare^F · days^G · gaze^G · find^H · mankind^H · hold^I · uncontroll'd^I · night^J · light^J · caught · thought · arise^K · sublimities · be^L · knee^L · fires^K · requires^K · down^M · frown^M · explore · o'er · recess^N · loneliness^N · near^O · hear^O · caves^P · waves^P
20 AA--BBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKKLLMMNNOOPP--QQRRSSTTUU bear^A · despair^A · eye · sympathy · chief^B · grief^B · wield^C · field^C · leads^D · deeds^D · fly^E · die^E · release^F · peace^F · sound^G · around^G · between^H · scene^H · knight^I · fight^I · glen^J · then^J · spears^K · mountaineers^K · wait^L · fate^L · rest^M · breast^M · lance^N · advance^N · by^O · die^O · woes^P · repose^P · wreak · break · fell^Q · dell^Q · pass'd^R · last^R · recoil^S · toil^S · fly^T · high^T · dare^U · despair^U
21 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKKLL--MM--NN-- become^A · home^A · tread^B · dread^B · shrink^C · brink^C · doom^D · tomb^D · severe^E · fear^E · throw^F · below^F · spray^G · way^G · now^H · bough^H · dwell^I · spell^I · head^J · spread^J · rise^K · dies^K · tide^L · side^L · eye · sublimity · day^M · stray^M · above · rove · dyes^N · skies^N · high · eternity
22 AABBCC stands^A · sands^A · heard^B · word^B · grown^C · tone^C
23 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJ--KK ear^A · near^A · bends^B · ascends^B · shades^C · glades^C · past^D · last^D · source^E · course^E · scene^F · mien^F · cry^G · sky^G · sound^H · round^H · forgets^I · regrets^I · dwell^J · swell^J · floods · woods · impress^K · nothingness^K
24 AABBCCDDBBEEFF--GG--HHII cave^A · wave^A · lone^B · unknown^B · intrude^C · solitude^C · wail^D · gale^D · tone^B · moan^B · fled^E · dead^E · trance^F · advance^F · floor · o'er · rends^G · bends^G · nigh · sanctity · grief^H · chief^H · past^I · last^I
25 AABBCCDDEE left^A · bereft^A · bier^B · hear^B · unclose^C · repose^C · mourn^D · torn^D · know^E · flow^E
26 AABB--CC name^A · came^A · power^B · hour^B · eye · majesty · glow^C · flow^C
27 AABBCCBBDDEEFF might^A · light^A · tear^B · bier^B · hand^C · band^C · despair^B · there^B · pursued^D · rude^D · taught^E · thought^E · decree^F · thee^F
28 AABBCCDDEEFFGG below^A · woe^A · impart^B · heart^B · save^C · grave^C · strife^D · life^D · aught^E · sought^E · known^F · alone^F · last^G · past^G
29 AABBCCDDEE flower^A · bower^A · secured^B · endured^B · be^C · thee^C · known^D · alone^D · forgot^E · lot^E
30 --AA--BBCCDDEEFF repine · thine · heart^A · depart^A · traced · effaced · keep^B · weep^B · doom^C · tomb^C · feel^D · steal^D · side^E · died^E · lot^F · not^F
31 AAB-CCBBDDEEFFGG--HH--IIJJKKLLMM--NNOO day^A · away^A · nigh^B · sanctify · prayer^C · spare^C · fly^B · die^B · tread^D · dead^D · pace^E · face^E · wait^F · fate^F · turns^G · burns^G · sheath · death · mien^H · serene^H · cry · agony · bend^I · defend^I · past^J · last^J · blow^K · flow^K · breast^L · rest^L · band^M · stand^M · o'er · more · smile^N · while^N · dwell^O · farewell^O
32 --AABBCCDDEEFF proved · beloved · hide^A · tried^A · thrill'd^B · fulfill'd^B · tie^C · die^C · vain^D · again^D · prayer^E · spare^E · woes^F · repose^F
33 AA--BBCCDD death^A · breath^A · done · flown · paint^B · faint^B · impart^C · heart^C · survey'd^D · portray'd^D
34 AA-- air^A · bear^A · tone · gone
35 -A-ABB gone · birth^A · flown · earth^A · race^B · trace^B
36 ABABA- free^A · raise^B · thee^A · days^B · eye^A · liberty
37 ABABCC bloom^A · resign^B · doom^A · thine^B · fled^C · dead^C
38 ABAB-- bier^A · flow'd^B · fear^A · abode^B · bequeath · death
39 ABABCC brave^A · years^B · grave^A · tears^B · vain^C · again^C
40 ABABCC foes^A · yore^B · those^A · more^B · rest^C · blest^C
41 AABBCCDDEEFFGG cave^A · grave^A · tomb^B · doom^B · moan^C · alone^C · blaze^D · days^D · there^E · despair^E · wild^F · beguiled^F · those^G · repose^G

Scansion, line by line

Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.

Line	Syl.	Stress
“Fermossi al fin il cor che balzo tanto.”	12	············
Hippolito Pindemonte.	7	·······
Heroes of elder days! untaught to yield,	10	/˘·/˘·····
Who bled for Spain on many an ancient field;	10	·····/·/˘·
Ye that around the oaken cross of yore	10	·····/˘···
Stood firm and fearless on Asturia’s shore,	10	···/˘·····
And with your spirit, ne’er to be subdued,	10	···/˘···˘/
Hallow’d the wild Cantabrian solitude;	11	/˘··˘/˘˘/˘·
Rejoice amidst your dwellings of repose,	10	˘/˘/·/˘·˘/
In the last chastening of your Moslem foes!	10	···/˘··/˘·
Rejoice!--for Spain, arising in her strength,	10	˘/··˘/˘···
Hath burst the remnant of their yoke at length,	10	···/˘·····
And they, in turn, the cup of woe must drain,	10	··········
And bathe their fetters with their tears in vain.	10	···/˘·····
And thou, the warrior born in happy hour,	10	···/˘··/˘/
Valencia’s lord, whose name alone was power,	10	˘/˘···˘/·/
Theme of a thousand songs in days gone by,	10	···/˘·····
Conqueror of kings! exult, O Cid! on high;	10	/˘··˘/····
For still ’twas thine to guard thy country’s weal,	10	·······/˘·
In life, in death, the watcher for Castile!	11	·····/˘····
Thou, in that hour when Mauritania’s bands	10	···/··˘/˘·
Rush’d from their palmy groves and burning lands,	10	···/˘··/˘·
E’en in the realm of spirits didst retain	10	·····/˘·˘/
A patriot’s vigilance, remembering Spain!	10	·/˘/˘˘/˘˘·
Then at deep midnight rose the mighty sound,	10	···/···/˘·
By Leon heard in shuddering awe profound,	10	·/˘··/˘·˘/
As through her echoing streets, in dread array,	10	···/˘···˘/
Beings once mortal held their viewless way--	10	/˘·/˘··/˘·
Voices from worlds we know not--and the tread	10	/˘········
Of marching hosts, the armies of the dead,	10	·/˘··/˘···
Thou and thy buried chieftains: from the grave	10	···/˘/˘···
Then did thy summons rouse a king to save,	10	···/˘·····
And join thy warriors with unearthly might	10	···/˘·˘/˘·
To aid the rescue in Tolosa’s fight.	10	···/˘·····
Those days are past--the crescent on thy shore,	10	·····/˘···
O realm of evening! sets, to rise no more.	10	···/˘·····
What banner streams afar from Vela’s tower?	11	·/˘·˘/·/˘/˘
The cross, bright ensign of Iberia’s power!	10	···/˘·˘/˘/
What the glad shout of each exulting voice?	10	······˘/˘·
“Castile and Aragon! rejoice, rejoice!”	11	····/˘·˘/˘/
Yielding free entrance to victorious foes,	10	/˘·/˘·˘/˘·
The Moorish city sees her gates unclose,	10	·/˘/˘···˘/
And Spain’s proud host, with pennon, shield, and lance,	10	·····/˘···
Through her long streets in knightly garb advance.	10	·····/˘·˘/
Oh! ne’er in lofty dreams hath Fancy’s eye	10	···/˘··/˘·
Dwelt on a scene of statelier pageantry,	11	········/˘˘
At joust or tourney, theme of poet’s lore,	10	···/˘··/˘·
High masque or solemn festival of yore.	10	···/˘/˘˘··
The gilded cupolas, that proudly rise	10	·/˘˘/˘·/˘·
O’erarch’d by cloudless and cerulean skies;	11	···/˘·˘/˘˘·
Tall minarets, shining mosques, barbaric towers,	11	··˘//˘·˘/˘/
Fountains and palaces, and cypress bowers:	11	/˘·/˘˘·/˘/˘
And they, the splendid and triumphant throng,	10	···/˘·˘/˘·
With helmets glittering as they move along,	10	·/˘/˘···˘/
With broider’d scarf and gem-bestudded mail,	10	··········
And graceful plumage streaming on the gale;	10	·/˘/˘/˘···
Shields, gold-emboss’d, and pennons floating far,	10	··˘/···/˘·
And all the gorgeous blazonry of war,	10	···/˘/˘˘··
All brighten’d by the rich transparent hues	10	·/˘···˘/˘·
That southern suns o’er heaven and earth diffuse--	10	·/˘··/··˘/
Blend in one scene of glory, form’d to throw	10	·····/˘···
O’er memory’s page a never-fading glow,	10	·/˘˘··//˘·
And there, too, foremost midst the conquering brave,	10	···/···/˘·
Your azure plumes, O Aben-Zurrahs! wave.	10	·/˘·······
There Hamet moves; the chief whose lofty port	10	·······/˘·
Seems nor reproach to shun, nor praise to court;	10	··˘/······
Calm, stern, collected--yet within his breast	10	··˘/˘·····
Is there no pang, no struggle, unconfess’d?	10	·····/˘···
If such there be, it still must dwell unseen,	10	········˘/
Nor cloud a triumph with a sufferer’s mien.	10	···/˘··/˘·
Hear’st thou the solemn yet exulting sound	10	···/˘·˘/˘·
Of the deep anthem floating far around?	10	···/˘/˘···
The choral voices, to the skies that raise	10	·/˘/˘·····
The full majestic harmony of praise?	10	··˘/˘/˘˘··
Lo! where, surrounded by their princely train,	10	··˘/˘··/˘·
They come, the sovereigns of rejoicing Spain,	10	···/˘·˘/˘·
Borne on their trophied car--lo! bursting thence	10	···/˘··/˘·
A blaze of chivalrous magnificence!	10	···/˘˘˘/˘˘
Onward their slow and stately course they bend	10	/˘···/˘···
To where th’ Alhambra’s ancient towers ascend,	10	··˘/˘/˘/˘/
Rear’d and adorn’d by Moorish kings of yore,	10	··˘/·/˘···
Whose lost descendants there shall dwell no more.	10	··˘/˘·····
They reach those towers--irregularly vast	10	···/˘/˘˘˘·
And rude they seem, in mould barbaric cast:	10	······˘/˘·
They enter--to their wondering sight is given	10	·/˘··/˘··/
A genii palace--an Arabian heaven!	10	···/˘·˘/˘/
A scene by magic raised, so strange, so fair,	10	···/˘·····
Its forms and colour seem alike of air.	10	···/˘·˘/··
Here, by sweet orange-boughs half shaded o’er,	10	···/˘··/˘·
The deep clear bath reveals its marble floor,	10	····˘/·/˘·
Its margin fringed with flowers, whose glowing hues	10	·/˘··/·/˘·
The calm transparence of its wave suffuse.	10	··˘/˘···˘/
There round the court, where Moorish arches bend,	10	·····/˘/˘·
Aërial columns, richly deck’d, ascend;	9	··/˘/˘·˘/
Unlike the models of each classic race,	10	˘/·/˘··/˘·
Of Doric grandeur or Corinthian grace,	10	·/˘˘/·˘/˘·
But answering well each vision that portrays	10	·/˘··/˘·˘/
Arabian splendour to the poet’s gaze:	10	˘/˘/˘··/˘·
Wild, wondrous, brilliant, all--a mingling glow	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
Of rainbow-tints, above, around, below;	10	·/········
Bright streaming from the many-tinctured veins	10	·/˘··/˘/˘·
Of precious marble, and the vivid stains	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
Of rich mosaics o’er the light arcade,	10	··˘/˘···˘/
In gay festoons and fairy knots display’d.	10	···/·/˘·˘/
On through th’ enchanted realm, that only seems	10	··˘/˘··/˘·
Meet for the radiant creatures of our dreams,	10	···/˘/˘·/·
The royal conquerors pass--while still their sight	10	·/˘/˘·····
On some new wonder dwells with fresh delight.	10	···/˘···˘/
Here the eye roves through slender colonnades,	10	·····/˘·˘/
O’er bowery terraces and myrtle shades;	10	·/˘/˘˘·/˘·
Dark olive-woods beyond, and far on high	10	·/˘·······
The vast sierra mingling with the sky.	10	··˘/˘/˘···
There, scattering far around their diamond spray,	10	·/˘····/˘·
Clear streams from founts of alabaster play,	10	·····/˘·˘·
Through pillar’d halls, where, exquisitely wrought,	10	·/˘···/˘˘·
Rich arabesques, with glittering foliage fraught,	10	·····/˘/˘·
Surmount each fretted arch, and lend the scene	10	˘/·/˘·····
A wild, romantic, oriental mien:	10	··˘/˘·˘/˘·
While many a verse, from eastern bards of old,	10	·/···/˘···
Borders the walls in characters of gold.	10	/˘···/˘˘··
Here Moslem luxury, in her own domain,	10	·/˘/˘···˘/
Hath held for ages her voluptuous reign	10	···/˘·˘/˘·
Midst gorgeous domes, where soon shall silence brood,	10	·/˘····/˘·
And all be lone--a splendid solitude.	10	·····/˘/˘·
Now wake their echoes to a thousand songs,	10	···/˘··/˘·
From mingling voices of exulting throngs;	10	·/˘/˘·˘/˘·
Tambour and flute, and atabal are there,	10	/˘···/˘˘··
And joyous clarions pealing on the air;	10	·/˘/˘/˘···
While every hall resounds, “Granada won!	10	·/˘··/˘/˘·
Granada! for Castile and Aragon!”	11	˘/˘·····/˘·
’Tis night--from dome and tower, in dazzling maze,	10	·····/·/˘·
The festal lamps innumerably blaze;	10	·/˘·······
Through long arcades their quivering lustre gleams,	10	··˘/·/˘/˘·
From every lattice tremulously streams,	10	·/˘/˘/˘˘˘·
Midst orange-gardens plays on fount and rill,	10	·/˘/˘·····
And gilds the waves of Darro and Xenil;	10	··········
Red flame the torches on each minaret’s height,	11	···/˘···˘/·
And shines each street an avenue of light;	10	·····/˘···
And midnight feasts are held, and music’s voice	10	·/·····/˘·
Through the long night still summons to rejoice.	10	·····/˘·˘/
Yet there, while all would seem to heedless eye	10	·······/˘·
One blaze of pomp, one burst of revelry,	10	·······/˘˘
Are hearts unsoothed by those delusive hours,	11	······˘/˘/˘
Gall’d by the chain, though deck’d awhile with flowers;	11	······˘/·/˘
Stern passions working in th’ indignant breast,	10	·/˘/˘·˘/˘·
Deep pangs untold, high feelings unexpress’d,	10	··˘/·/˘···
Heroic spirits, unsubmitting yet--	10	˘/˘/˘·····
Vengeance and keen remorse, and vain regret.	10	/˘··˘/··˘/
From yon proud height, whose olive-shaded brow	10	·····/˘/˘·
Commands the wide luxuriant plains below,	10	˘/··˘/˘···
Who lingering gazes o’er the lovely scene,	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
Anguish and shame contending in his mien	10	/˘··˘/˘···
He who of heroes and of kings the son,	10	···/˘·····
Hath lived to lose whate’er his fathers won;	11	····˘˘/·/˘·
Whose doubts and fears his people’s fate have seal’d,	10	·····/˘···
Wavering alike in council and in field;	10	/˘˘/·/˘···
Weak, timid ruler of the wise and brave,	10	·/˘/˘·····
Still a fierce tyrant or a yielding slave.	10	···/˘··/˘·
Far from these vine-clad hills and azure skies,	10	·······/˘·
To Afric’s wilds the royal exile flies;	10	·····/˘/··
Yet pauses on his way to weep in vain	10	·/˘·······
O’er all he never must behold again.	10	···/˘·˘/˘/
Fair spreads the scene around--for him too fair,	10	··········
Each glowing charm but deepens his despair.	10	·/˘··/˘·˘/
The Vega’s meads, the city’s glittering spires,	10	·/˘··/˘/˘·
The old majestic palace of his sires,	10	··˘/˘/˘···
The gay pavilions and retired alcoves,	10	··˘/˘·˘//·
Bosom’d in citron and pomegranate groves;	9	···/˘·/˘·
Tower-crested rocks, and streams that wind in light,	10	//˘·······
All in one moment bursting on his sight,	10	···/˘/˘···
Speak to his soul of glory’s vanish’d years,	10	·····/˘/˘·
And wake the source of unavailing tears.	10	······˘/˘·
--Weep’st thou, Abdallah?--Thou dost well to weep,	10	···/˘·····
O feeble heart! o’er all thou couldst not keep!	10	·/˘·······
Well do a woman’s tears befit the eye	10	···/˘·˘/··
Of him who knew not as a man to die.	10	··········
The gale sighs mournfully through Zayda’s bower,	11	·········/˘
The hand is gone that nursed each infant flower.	11	·······/˘/˘
No voice, no step, is in her father’s halls,	10	·······/˘·
Mute are the echoes of their marble walls;	10	···/˘··/˘·
No stranger enters at the chieftain’s gate,	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
But all is hush’d, and void, and desolate.	10	·······/˘·
There, through each tower and solitary shade,	10	···/·/˘·˘·
In vain doth Hamet seek the Zegri maid:	10	··········
Her grove is silent, her pavilion lone,	10	···/˘·˘/˘·
Her lute forsaken, and her doom unknown;	10	··˘/˘···˘/
And through the scene she loved, unheeded flows	10	······˘/˘·
The stream whose music lull’d her to repose.	10	···/˘···˘/
But oh! to him, whose self-accusing thought	10	······˘/˘·
Whispers ’twas he that desolation wrought;	10	/˘····˘/˘·
He who his country and his faith betray’d,	10	···/˘···˘/
And lent Castile revengeful, powerful aid;	11	·····˘/˘/˘·
A voice of sorrow swells in every gale,	10	···/˘··/˘·
Each wave low rippling tells a mournful tale:	10	···/˘··/˘·
And as the shrubs, untended, unconfined,	10	········˘/
In wild exuberance rustle to the wind,	10	··˘/˘/˘···
Each leaf hath language to his startled sense,	10	···/˘··/˘·
And seems to murmur--“Thou hast driven her hence!”	10	···/˘··/··
And well he feels to trace her flight were vain,	10	··········
--Where hath lost love been once recall’d again?	10	······˘/˘/
In her pure breast, so long by anguish torn,	10	·······/˘·
His name can rouse no feeling now--but scorn.	10	·····/˘···
O bitter hour! when first the shuddering heart	10	·/˘/···/˘·
Wakes to behold the void within--and start!	10	··˘/······
To feel its own abandonment, and brood	10	····˘/˘˘··
O’er the chill bosom’s depth of solitude.	10	···/˘··/˘·
The stormy passions that in Hamet’s breast	10	·/˘/˘·····
Have sway’d so long, so fiercely, are at rest;	10	·····/˘···
The avenger’s task is closed:--he finds too late	11	·˘/˘·······
It hath not changed his feelings, but his fate.	10	·····/˘···
He was a lofty spirit, turn’d aside	10	···/˘/˘·˘/
From its bright path by woes, and wrongs, and pride,	10	··········
And onward, in its new tumultuous course,	10	·/˘····/˘·
Borne with too rapid and intense a force	10	···/˘·˘/··
To pause one moment in the dread career,	10	···/˘···˘/
And ask if such could be its native sphere.	10	·······/˘·
Now are those days of wild delirium o’er,	10	······˘/˘·
Their fears and hopes excite his soul no more;	10	····˘/····
The feverish energies of passion close,	10	·/˘/˘˘·/˘·
And his heart sinks in desolate repose,	10	·····/˘·˘/
Turns sickening from the world, yet shrinks not less	10	·/˘·······
From its own deep and utter loneliness.	10	·····/˘/˘˘
There is a sound of voices on the air,	10	·····/˘···
A flash of armour to the sunbeam’s glare,	10	···/˘··/··
Midst the wild Alpuxarras;--there, on high,	10	··········
Where mountain-snows are mingling with the sky,	10	·/˘··/˘···
A few brave tribes, with spirits yet unbroke,	10	·····/˘···
Have fled indignant from the Spaniard’s yoke.	10	··˘/˘··/˘·
O ye dread scenes! where nature dwells alone,	10	·····/˘·˘/
Severely glorious on her craggy throne;	10	˘/˘/˘··/˘·
Ye citadels of rock, gigantic forms,	10	·/˘···˘/˘·
Veil’d by the mists and girdled by the storms,--	10	·····/˘···
Ravines, and glens, and deep resounding caves,	10	˘/····˘/˘·
That hold communion with the torrent-waves;	10	··˘/˘··/˘·
And ye, th’ unstain’d and everlasting snows,	10	··˘/··˘/˘·
That dwell above in bright and still repose;	10	········˘/
To you, in every clime, in every age,	10	···/˘··/˘·
Far from the tyrant’s or the conqueror’s rage,	10	···/˘··/˘·
Hath Freedom led her sons--untired to keep	10	·/˘·······
Her fearless vigils on the barren steep.	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
She, like the mountain-eagle, still delights	10	···/˘/˘·˘/
To gaze exulting from unconquer’d heights,	10	··˘/˘·····
And build her eyrie in defiance proud,	10	···/˘·˘/˘·
To dare the wind, and mingle with the cloud.	10	·····/˘···
Now her deep voice, the soul’s awakener, swells,	11	······˘/˘˘·
Wild Alpuxarras! through your inmost dells.	10	·······/˘·
There, the dark glens and lonely rocks among,	10	·····/˘···
As at the clarion’s call, her children throng.	10	···/˘··/˘·
She with enduring strength has nerved each frame,	10	··˘/˘·····
And made each heart the temple of her flame,	10	·····/˘···
Her own resisting spirit, which shall glow	10	··˘/˘/˘···
Unquenchably, surviving all below.	10	····˘/˘···
There high-born maids, that moved upon the earth	10	··········
More like bright creatures of aërial birth,	9	···/˘····
Nurslings of palaces, have fled to share	10	···/˘˘····
The fate of brothers and of sires; to bear,	10	···/˘·····
All undismay’d, privation and distress,	10	····˘/˘·˘/
And smile the roses of the wilderness:	10	···/˘··/˘˘
And mothers with their infants, there to dwell	10	·/˘··/˘···
In the deep forest or the cavern cell,	10	···/˘··/˘·
And rear their offspring midst the rocks, to be,	10	···/······
If now no more the mighty, still the free.	10	·····/˘···
And midst that band are veterans, o’er whose head	10	·····/˘···
Sorrows and years their mingled snow have shed:	10	/˘···/˘···
They saw thy glory, they have wept thy fall,	10	···/˘·····
O royal city! and the wreck of all	10	·/˘/˘·····
They loved and hallow’d most:--doth aught remain	10	···/˘···˘/
For these to prove of happiness or pain?	10	·····/˘˘··
Life’s cup is drain’d--earth fades before their eye;	10	··········
Their task is closing--they have but to die.	10	···/˘·····
Ask ye why fled they hither?--that their doom	10	·····/˘···
Might be, to sink unfetter’d to the tomb.	10	····˘/˘···
And youth, in all its pride of strength, is there,	10	··········
And buoyancy of spirit, form’d to dare	10	·/˘˘·/˘···
And suffer all things--fall’n on evil days,	10	·/˘····/˘·
Yet darting o’er the world an ardent gaze,	10	·/˘····/˘·
As on the arena where its powers may find	11	···˘/˘··/··
Full scope to strive for glory with mankind.	10	·····/˘·//
Such are the tenants of the mountain-hold,	10	···/˘··/˘·
The high in heart, unconquer’d, uncontroll’d:	10	········˘/
By day, the huntsmen of the wild--by night,	10	··········
Unwearied guardians of the watch-fire’s light,	10	˘/˘/˘···/·
They from their bleak majestic home have caught	10	····˘/˘···
A sterner tone of unsubmitting thought,	10	·/˘·······
While all around them bids the soul arise	10	········˘/
To blend with nature’s dread sublimities.	9	···/˘····
--But these are lofty dreams, and must not be	10	···/˘·····
Where tyranny is near:--the bended knee,	10	·/˘˘···/˘·
The eye whose glance no inborn grandeur fires,	11	·····/·˘//˘
And the tamed heart, are tributes she requires;	11	·····/˘·˘/˘
Nor must the dwellers of the rock look down	10	···/˘·····
On regal conquerors, and defy their frown.	10	·/˘/˘·˘/··
What warrior-band is toiling to explore	10	·/˘··/˘·˘/
The mountain-pass, with pine-wood shadow’d o’er,	10	·/˘····/˘·
Startling with martial sounds each rude recess,	10	/˘·/˘···˘/
Where the deep echo slept in loneliness?	10	···/˘··/˘˘
These are the sons of Spain!--Your foes are near,	10	··········
O exiles of the wild sierra! hear!	10	·/····˘/˘·
Hear! wake! arise! and from your inmost caves	10	··˘/···/˘·
Pour like the torrent in its might of waves!	10	···/˘·····
Who leads the invaders on?--his features bear	11	···˘/˘··/˘·
The deep-worn traces of a calm despair;	10	···/˘···˘/
Yet his dark brow is haughty--and his eye	10	·····/˘···
Speaks of a soul that asks not sympathy.	10	·······/˘˘
’Tis he! ’tis he again! the apostate chief;	11	····˘/·˘/˘·
He comes in all the sternness of his grief.	10	·····/˘···
He comes, but changed in heart, no more to wield	10	··········
Falchion for proud Castile in battle-field,	11	/˘······/˘·
Against his country’s children though he leads	10	···/˘/˘···
Castilian bands again to hostile deeds:	10	˘/˘·˘/·/˘·
His hope is but from ceaseless pangs to fly,	10	·····/˘···
To rush upon the Moslem spears, and die.	10	·····/˘···
So shall remorse and love the heart release,	10	··˘/····˘/
Which dares not dream of joy, but sighs for peace.	10	··········
The mountain-echoes are awake--a sound	10	·/˘/˘·˘/··
Of strife is ringing through the rocks around.	10	···/˘·····
Within the steep defile that winds between	10	····˘/····
Cliffs piled on cliffs, a dark, terrific scene,	10	······˘/˘·
Where Moorish exile and Castilian knight	10	·/˘/··˘/˘·
Are wildly mingling in the serried fight.	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
Red flows the foaming streamlet of the glen,	10	···/˘/˘···
Whose bright transparence ne’er was stain’d till then;	10	··˘/˘·····
While swell the war-note and the clash of spears	10	··········
To the bleak dwellings of the mountaineers,	10	···/˘··/˘·
Where thy sad daughters, lost Granada! wait	10	···/˘·˘/˘·
In dread suspense the tidings of their fate.	10	··˘/·/˘···
But he--whose spirit, panting for its rest,	10	···/˘/˘···
Would fain each sword concentrate in his breast--	10	····/˘····
Who, where a spear is pointed, or a lance	10	·····/˘···
Aim’d at another’s breast, would still advance--	10	··˘/˘···˘/
Courts death in vain; each weapon glances by,	10	·····/˘/˘·
As if for him ’twere bliss too great to die.	10	··········
Yes, Aben-Zurrah! there are deeper woes	10	·······/˘·
Reserved for thee ere nature’s last repose;	10	˘/···/˘·˘/
Thou know’st not yet what vengeance fate can wreak,	10	·····/˘···
Nor all the heart can suffer ere it break.	10	·····/˘···
Doubtful and long the strife, and bravely fell	10	/˘·····/˘·
The sons of battle in that narrow dell;	10	···/˘··/˘·
Youth in its light of beauty there hath pass’d,	10	·····/˘···
And age, the weary, found repose at last;	10	···/˘·˘/··
Till, few and faint, the Moslem tribes recoil,	10	·····/˘·˘/
Borne down by numbers and o’erpower’d by toil.	11	···/˘······
Dispersed, dishearten’d, through the pass they fly,	10	˘/˘/˘·····
Pierce the deep wood, or mount the cliff on high;	10	··········
While Hamet’s band in wonder gaze, nor dare	10	·····/˘···
Track o’er their dizzy path the footsteps of despair.	12	···/˘··/··˘/
Yet he, to whom each danger hath become	10	·····/˘·˘/
A dark delight, and every wild a home,	10	··˘/·/˘···
Still urges onward--undismay’d to tread	10	·/˘/˘·····
Where life’s fond lovers would recoil with dread.	10	···/˘·˘/··
But fear is’ for the happy--they may shrink	10	·····/˘···
From the steep precipice or torrent’s brink;	10	···/˘˘·/˘·
They to whom earth is paradise--their doom	10	·····/˘···
Lends no stern courage to approach the tomb:	10	···/˘·˘/··
Not such his lot, who, school’d by fate severe,	10	········˘/
Were but too blest if aught remain’d to fear.	10	······˘/··
Up the rude crags, whose giant masses throw	10	·····/˘/˘·
Eternal shadows o’er the glen below;	10	˘/˘/······
And by the fall, whose many-tinctured spray	10	·····/˘/˘·
Half in a mist of radiance veils its way,	10	·····/˘···
He holds his venturous track:--supported now	11	···/˘˘·˘/˘·
By some o’erhanging pine or ilex bough;	10	·······/˘·
Now by some jutting stone, that seems to dwell	10	···/˘·····
Half in mid-air, as balanced by a spell.	10	·····/˘···
Now hath his footstep gain’d the summit’s head,	10	···/···/˘·
A level span, with emerald verdure spread,	10	·/˘··/˘/˘·
A fairy circle--there the heath-flowers rise,	10	·/˘/˘···/·
And the rock-rose unnoticed blooms and dies;	10	····˘/˘···
And brightly plays the stream, ere yet its tide	10	·/˘·······
In foam and thunder cleave the mountain side:	10	···/˘··/˘·
But all is wild beyond--and Hamet’s eye	10	··········
Roves o’er a world of rude sublimity.	10	······˘/˘˘
That dell beneath, where e’en at noon of day	10	··········
Earth’s charter’d guest, the sunbeam, scarce can stray;	10	·/˘··/····
Around, untrodden woods; and far above,	10	··········
Where mortal footstep ne’er may hope to rove,	10	·/˘/······
Bare granite cliffs, whose fix’d, inherent dyes	10	·/˘···˘/˘·
Rival the tints that float o’er summer skies:	10	/˘·····/˘·
And the pure glittering snow-realm, yet more high,	10	···/˘·····
That seems a part of heaven’s eternity.	11	·····/˘˘/˘˘
There is no track of man where Hamet stands,	10	··········
Pathless the scene as Lybia’s desert sands;	10	/˘·····˘/·
Yet on the calm still air a sound is heard	10	··········
Of distant voices, and the gathering-word	10	·/˘/˘··/˘·
Of Islam’s tribes, now faint and fainter grown,	10	·/·····/˘·
Now but the lingering echo of a tone.	10	···/˘/˘···
That sound, whose cadence dies upon his ear,	10	···/˘·····
He follows, reckless if his bands are near.	10	·/˘/˘·····
On by the rushing stream his way he bends,	10	···/˘·····
And through the mountain’s forest zone ascends;	10	···/˘/˘·˘/
Piercing the still and solitary shades	10	/˘···/˘·˘·
Of ancient pine, and dark luxuriant glades,	10	·/˘···˘/˘·
Eternal twilight’s reign:--those mazes past,	10	˘/˘/···/˘·
The glowing sunbeams meet his eyes at last,	10	·/˘/······
And the lone wanderer now hath reach’d the source	10	···/˘·····
Whence the wave gushes, foaming on its course.	10	···/˘/˘···
But there he pauses--for the lonely scene	10	···/˘··/˘·
Towers in such dread magnificence of mien,	10	/···˘/˘˘··
And, mingled oft with some wild eagle’s cry,	10	·/˘····/˘·
From rock-built eyrie rushing to the sky,	10	···/˘/˘···

The first 400 of 625 lines; the reader marks them all.

Notes from the edition 17

Notes from The Poems of Felicia Hemans (Project Gutenberg #66785), largely Mrs Hemans's own.

Stanza 2, line 3 The oaken cross, carried by Pelagius in battle.
Stanza 2, line 13 See Southey’s Chronicle of the Cid, in which that warrior is frequently styled, “he who was born in happy hour.”
Stanza 3, line 4 “Moreover, when the Miramamolin brought over from Africa against King Don Alfonso, the eighth of that name, the mightiest power of the misbelievers that had ever been brought against Spain, since the destruction of the kings of the Goths, the Cid Campeador remembered his country in that great danger; for the night before the battle was fought at the Navas de Tolosa, in the dead of the night, a mighty sound was heard in the whole city of Leon, as if it were the tramp of a great army passing through; and it passed on to the royal monastery of St Isidro, and there was a great knocking at the gate thereof, and they called to a priest who was keeping vigils in the church, and told him that the captains of the army whom he heard were the Cid Ruydiez, and Count Ferran Gonzalez, and that they came there to call up King Don Fernando the Great, who lay buried in that church, that he might go with them to deliver Spain. And on the morrow that great battle of the Navas de Tolosa was fought, wherein sixty thousand of the misbelievers were slain, which was one of the greatest and noblest battles ever won over the Moors.”--Southey’s Chronicle of the Cid.
Stanza 3, line 16 The name of Andalusia, the region of evening, or of the west, was applied by the Arabs not only to the province so called, but to the whole peninsula.
Stanza 3, line 17 “En este dia, para siempre memorable, los estandartes de la Cruz, de St Jago, y el de los Reyes de Castilla se tremoláran sobre la torre mas alta, llamada de la Vela; y un exercito prosternado, inundandose en lagrimas de gozo y reconocimiento, asistio al mas glorioso de los espectaculos.”--Paseos en Granada, vol. i. p. 299.
Stanza 7, line 2 Swinburne, after describing the noble palace built by Charles V. in the precincts of the Alhambra, thus proceeds: “Adjoining (to the north) stands a huge heap of as ugly buildings as can well be seen, all huddled together, seemingly without the least intention of forming one habitation out of them. The walls are entirely unornamented, all gravel and pebbles, daubed over with plaster by a very coarse hand; yet this is the palace of the Moorish kings of Granada, indisputably the most curious place within that exists in Spain, perhaps in Europe. In many countries you may see excellent modern as well as ancient architecture, both entire and in ruins; but nothing to be met with any where else can convey an idea of this edifice, except you take it from the decorations of an opera, or the tales of the genii.”--Swinburne’s Travels through Spain.
Stanza 7, line 4 “Passing round the corner of the emperor’s palace, you are admitted at a plain unornamented door in a corner. On my first visit, I confess, I was struck with amazement as I stept over the threshold, to find myself on a sudden transported into a species of fairy land. The first place you come to is the court called the Communa, or del Mesucar, that is, the common baths: an oblong square, with a deep basin of clear water in the middle; two flights of marble steps leading down to the bottom; on each side a parterre of flowers, and a row of orange-trees. Round the court runs a peristyle paved with marble; the arches bear upon very slight pillars, in proportions and style different from all the regular orders of architecture. The ceilings and walls are incrustated with fretwork in stucco, so minute and intricate that the most patient draughtsman would find it difficult to follow it, unless he made himself master of the general plan.”--Swinburne’s Travels in Spain.
Stanza 7, line 38 The walls and cornices of the Alhambra are covered with inscriptions in Arabic characters. “In examining this abode of magnificence,” says Bourgoanne, “the observer is every moment astonished at the new and interesting mixture of architecture and poetry. The palace of the Alhambra may be called a collection of fugitive pieces; and whatever duration these may have, time, with which every thing passes away, has too much contributed to confirm to them that title.”--See Bourgoanne’s Travels in Spain.
Stanza 7, line 45 Atabal, a kind of Moorish drum.
Stanza 7, line 48 “Y ansi entraron en la ciudad, y subieron al Alhambra, y encima de la torre de Comares tan famosa se levantò la señal de la Santa Cruz, y luego el real estandarte de los dos Christianos reyes. Y al punto los reyes de armas, à grandes bozes dizieron, ‘Granada! Granada! por su magestad, y por la reyna su muger.’ La serenissima reyna D. Isabel, que viò ia señal de la Santa Cruz sobre la hermosa torre de Comares, y el su estandarte real con ella, se hincò de rodillas, y diò infinitas gracias à Dios por la victoria que le avia dado contra aquella gran ciudad. La musica real de la capilla del rey luego à canto de organo cantò Te Deum laudamus. Fuè tan grande el plazer que todos lloravan. Luego del Alhambra sonaron mil instrumentos de musica de belicas trompetas. Los Moros amigos del rey, que querian ser Christianos, cuya cabeza era el valeroso Muça, tomaron mil dulzaynas y añafiles, sonando grande ruydo de atambores por toda la ciudad.”--Historia de las Guerras Civiles de Granada.
Stanza 8, line 2 “Los cavalleros Moros que avemos dicho, aquella noche jugaron galanamente alcancias y cañas. Andava Granada aquella noche con tanta alegria, y con tantas luminarias, que parecia que se ardia la terra.”--Historia de las Guerras Civiles de Granada. Swinburne, in his Travels through Spain, in the years 1775 and 1776, mentions, that the anniversary of the surrender of Granada to Ferdinand and Isabella was still observed in the city as a great festival and day of rejoicing; and that the populace on that occasion paid an annual visit to the Moorish palace.
Stanza 11, line 2 “Los Gomeles todos se passeron en Africa, y el Rey Chico con ellos, que no quisò estar en España, y en Africa le mataron los Moros de aquellas partes, porque perdiò a Granada.”--Guerras Civiles de Granada.
Stanza 11, line 18 Abo Abdeli, upon leaving Granada, after its conquest by Ferdinand and Isabella, stopped on the hill of Padul to take a last look of his city and palace. Overcome by the sight, he burst into tears, and was thus reproached by his mother, the Sultaness Ayxa,--“Thou dost well to weep like a woman, over the loss of that kingdom which thou knewest not how to defend and die for like a man.”
Stanza 14, line 21 “El rey mandò, que si quedavan Zegris, que no viviessen en Granada, por la maldad qui hizieron contra los Abencerrages.”--Guerras Civiles de Granada.
Stanza 15, line 3 “The Alpuxarras are so lofty that the coast of Barbary, and the cities of Tangier and Ceuta, are discovered from their summits; they are about seventeen leagues in length, from Veles Malaga to Almeria, and eleven in breadth, and abound with fruit trees of great beauty and prodigious size. In these mountains the wretched remains of the Moors took refuge.”--Bourgoanne’s Travels in Spain.
Stanza 21, line 10 “Plût à Dieu que je craignisse!”--Andromaque.
Stanza 21, line 32 Mrs Radcliffe, in her journey along the banks of the Rhine, thus describes the colours of granite rocks in the mountains of the Bergstrasse. “The nearer we approached these mountains, the more we had occasion to admire the various tints of their granites. Sometimes the precipices were of a faint pink, then of a deep red, a dull purple, or a blush approaching to lilac; and sometimes gleams of a pale yellow mingled with the low shrubs that grew upon their sides. The day was cloudless and bright, and we were too near these heights to be deceived by the illusions of aërial colouring; the real hues of their features were as beautiful as their magnitude was sublime.”

The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.

More by Felicia Hemans

Poems