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'Tis for his absence that I mourn. I sicken, waiting his return!" Such were the words Guhala said. The love-lorn and afflicted maid Nor further power and utterance found, But, fainting, sank upon the ground; For strength of love had never art To fill with life a pining heart. Azarco left his heart behind When he from Seville passed, And winsome Celindaja As hostage held it fast.
"Thou, who my glory's captain art, And general of my bleeding heart, Guardian of every thought I know, And sharer of my lot of woe; Light that illumes my happy face, The bliss of my soul's dwelling-place; Why must thou disappear from me, Thou glass wherein myself I see? Azarco, bid me understand What is it thou dost command Must I remain and wait for thee? Ah, tedious will that waiting be.
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