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Updated: June 13, 2025
O King and master, if, indeed, I am thy loved one still, As in those days when I was first upon Alhambra's hill, Send rescue for thy darling, or fear her love may fade, For love that needs the sunlight must wither in the shade. And yet I cannot doubt thee; if e'er suspicion's breath Should chill my heart, that moment would be Vindaraja's death.
And she said to her companion, as she clasped her tender hand: "I was born in high Granada, my loved, my native land; For years within Alhambra's courts my life ran on serene; I was a princess of the realm and handmaid to a queen. Within her private chamber I served both night and day, And the costliest jewels of her crown in my protection lay.
And in the joyous festival and in Alhambra's halls, She follows as he treads the dance at merry Moorish balls. And when the tide of battle is rising o'er the land, And he leaves his home, obedient to his honored King's command, With tears and lamentation she sees the warrior go With arms heroic to subdue the proud presumptuous foe.
Ah, how beautiful it is to be dreaming about a future, though it may never come true! to be floating on the sunset tide of Venice; to be journeying over the passes of the Alps in summer, and always approaching Mount Blanc; to be resting by the fountain in Alhambra's Court of Lions; to be gazing at the Sistine Madonna in Dresden, or at the Ascension in the Vatican; to be dosing in an orange grove in southern California; to be awed by the deep canons of the Colorado, or to be filled with the sublimity of the Yosemite!
'Mong those who from Alhambra's towers gazed on that warrior train, There were two Moorish ladies there whom love had smitten sore; Zarifa one, and Fatima the name the other bore. Knit by warm friendship were their hearts till, filled with jealous pain, Their glances met, as one fair knight came prancing o'er the plain. Zarifa spoke to Fatima, "How has love marred thy face!
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