164 BYRON
One what best his love might claim Hath lost, another wealth, or fame.
Woe is me, Alhama !
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 !
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 !
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 !
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 !
LXXV FRIENDSHIP
MY boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea;
But, before I go, Tom Moore, Here's a double health to thee !
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