THE DUKE DE RIVAS.
229
'T is blood that dark tenacious stain;
Blood of the murder'd dead:
Alas! how many throng it o'er,
Nor think on what they tread!
II.
Five hundred years shone younger
The Alcazar to the day,
Its lofty walls yet lustrous,
And faultless its array;
And brilliant were the enamels
Which its gilded roofs reveal,
It show'd itself the mansion fit
Of the king of proud Castile;
When on one balmy morn it chanced
Of florid May betide,
In that saloon whose balcony
Is on the plaza's side,
Two persons of illustrious mien
In silence deep were there;
One was a Cavalier, and one
A Lady passing fair.
A Barbary carpet richly wove
Upon the floor was laid,
The gift or tribute which the Moor
