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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Ah, mine will be the gain," he said, and kissed her with delight. Gazul, like some brave bull that stands at bay to meet his fate, Has fled from fair Celinda's frown and reached Sanlucar's gate. The Moor bestrides a sorrel mare, her housings are of gray, The desperate Moor is clad in weeds that shall his grief display.
Gazul dismounted from his steed and hastened to his bride; She sat there mournful and alone and at his sight she sighed; He flung his arms about the girl; she shrank from his embrace, And while he looked in wonder, she hid her blushing face; He said, "And can it be that thou should'st shrink from my embrace?"
Then sounds the trumpet clearly, then clangs the loud tambour, Make room, make room for Gazul throw wide, throw wide the door; Blow, blow the trumpet clearer still, more loudly strike the drum, The Alcaydé of Algava to fight the bull doth come.
And first she learned where bold Gazul was entertained that day, And they told her how his coming had put off the tilters' play, And at her pleasure-house she bade him meet her face to face; And they told him how Celinda longed for his loved embrace, And thrice he asked the messenger if all were not a jest, For oft 'tis dangerous to believe the news we love the best, For lovers' hopes are often thorns of rancor and unrest.
Her treachery had grieved his heart, and she who did the wrong Mourned with repentant heart amid that gay and happy throng. And with her was Zafira, to whom her husband brings More bliss and happiness than reign amid Granada's kings. And when she looked at brave Gazul his deeds her grief renew; The more she sees, the more her heart is ravished at the view.
Not greater share did Mars acquire of trophies and renown, Than great Gazul took with him from Gelva's castled town; And when he to Sanlucar came his lady welcomed him, His cup of happiness at last was beaded to the brim. Alone the joyful lovers stood within a garden glade; Amid the flowers, those happy hours fled to the evening shade.
With the life-blood of the slaughtered lords all slippery is the sand, Yet proudly in the centre hath Gazul ta'en his stand; And ladies look with heaving breast, and lords with anxious eye, But firmly he extends his arm his look is calm and high.
The brave Gazul his lady took and kissed her with a smile; "She could not be so fair," said he, "the girl, who by her guile Brought ruin on the Trojan realm, and set its towers afire, As thou art, lady of my heart and queen of my desire." "If I, indeed, seem fair to thee, then let the bridal rite Me and the husband of my heart for evermore unite."
Let kettle-drums and trumpets and clarions blend their strain; Zulema, Tunis' King, now lands upon the coast of Spain, And with him ride, in arms allied, Marbello and his train." Gazul, despairing, issues From high Villalba's gate, Cursing the evil fortune That left him desolate. Unmoved he in Granada saw What feuds between the foes The great Abencerrajes And the Andallas rose.
She rode a nimble palfrey and scarce could great Gazul Excel the ardent spirit with which her heart was full. Yet at every step her palfrey took, she turned her head for fear, To see if following on her track some enemy were near. And as she went, she sang aloud a melancholy strain; "And who would wish to die," she said, "though death be free from pain?"
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