Classic Poem

Z AIDE , if thy boastful bearing
Manly worth but truly token, —
It thou canst make good in action
What thy braggart lips have spoken, —
If with foemen thou canst combat,
As with women thou dost prattle,
Not more active in the Zambras,
Than on horseback in the battle, —
If, as in the mimic tournay,
Thou canst bear the crash of lances,
Wave the scimitar as deftly
As the light scarf in the dances, —
If thou art as skilled in warfare
As in smiles when dames pass by thee,
And apply thyself to combats
As to feasts thou dost apply thee, —
If, like silken summer raiment,
Thou the shining armour wearest,
And the shrill sound of the trumpet
Like the lute's sweet sound thou hearest, —
If, as in the sunny pastime,
Where so well the canes thou throwest,
Thou upon thy foe canst trample,
When unto the field thou goest, —
If the daring that thou vaunted
In my absence, thou not lackest, —
Come! as readily defend thee,
As in the Alhambra thou attackest!
If alone thou wilt not venture,
As is he who waits to meet thee,
Bring whatever friends thou pleasest,
If such aid be not beneath thee.
For true caballeros never
Trust the tongue, nor weakly mutter,
In a palace, or 'mid women,
Where the hands must nothing utter:
But the hands can here speak boldly, —
Come and see how he had spoken
If the presence of his monarch
Let the silence then be broken!
With such anger, with such fury,
Thus the Moor Al-Tarfe writeth,
That the pen cuts through the paper
In whatever place it lighteth.
Calling then his page, he speaketh —
" When the Alhambra you arrive at,
To the Moor called Zaide wending,
This from me present in private:
Tell him that I wait his coming.
In the citron-shaded alley,
Where Xenil's translucent water
Wanders through the pleasant valley. "