THE GRANADAN GIRL'S SONG.
63
While in the cleft the wild tree left Bursts into spikes of cruel blossom!
Ah, never dawn that day for me! O Fate, its fierce foreboding banish!When all our hosts, like pallid ghosts Blown on by morning, melt and vanish! Oh, in the fires of their desires Consume the toil of those invaders! And let the brand divide the hand That grasps the hilt of the Crusaders!
Yet idle words in such a scene! Yon pearly mists on high careering;The Moorish cavaliers who fleet With hawk and hound and distant cheering; The dipping sail puffed to the gale, The prow that spurns the billow's fawning,— How can they fade to dimmer shade, And how this day desert its dawning?
Forget to float, thou pearly rack! Ye riders, bronze your airy motion!
