Read Ebook: Moorish Literature Comprising Romantic Ballads Tales of the Berbers Stories of the Kabyles Folk-Lore and National Traditions by Basset Ren Editor

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Ebook has 1571 lines and 97688 words, and 32 pages

MOORISH BALLADS

Fatima's Love The Braggart Rebuked The Admiral's Farewell Moriana and Galvan The Bereaved Father The Warden of Molina The Loves of Boabdil and Vindaraja The Infanta Sevilla and Peranguelos Celin's Farewell Celin's Return Baza Revisited Captive Zara The Jealous King The Lovers of Antequera Tarfe's Truce The Two Moorish Knights The King's Decision Almanzar and Bobalias The Moorish Infanta and Alfonzo Ramos The Bull-fight of Zulema The Renegade The Tower of Gold The Dirge for Aliatar The Ship of Zara Hamete Ali Zaide's Love Zaida's Jealousy Zaida of Toledo Zaide Rebuked Zaida's Inconstancy Zaide's Desolation Zaida's Lament Zaida's Curse The Tournament of Zaide Zaide's Complaint Guhala's Love Azarco of Granada Azarco Rebuked Adelifa's Farewell Azarco's Farewell Celinda's Courtesy Gazul's Despondency Gazul in Love Celinda's Inconstancy The Bull-fight Lovers Reconciled Call to Arms Gazul Calumniated Gazul's Despair Vengeance of Gazul Gazul and Albenzaide Gazul's Arms The Tournament Abunemeya's Lament The Despondent Lover Love and Jealousy The Captive of Toledo The Blazon of Abenamar Woman's Fickleness King Juan Abenamar's Jealousy Adelifa's Jealousy Funeral of Abenamar Ballad of Albayaldos The Night Raid of Reduan Siege of Jaen Death of Reduan The Aged Lover Fickleness Rebuked The Galley Slave of Dragut The Captive's Lament Strike Sail The Captive's Escape The Spaniard of Oran

MOORISH ROMANCES

The Bull-fight of Gazul The Zegri's Bride The Bridal of Andalla Zara's Ear-rings The Lamentation for Celin

THE STORY OF SIDI BRAHIM OF MASSAT

FIVE BERBER STORIES

Djokhrane and the Jays The Ogre and the Beautiful Woman The False Vezir The Soufi and the Targui Ahmed el Hilalieu and El Redah

POEMS OF THE MAGHREB

Ali's Answer In Honor of Lalla Sayd and Hyzyya The A?ssaoua in Paris Song of Fatima The City Girl and the Country Girl

POPULAR TALES OF THE BERBERS

The Turtle, the Frog, and the Serpent The Hedgehog, the Jackal, and the Lion The Stolen Woman The King, the Arab, and the Monster The Lion, the Jackal, and the Man Salomon and the Griffin Adventure of Sidi Mahomet The Haunted Garden The Woman and the Fairy Hamed ben Ceggad The Magic Napkin The Child and the King of the Genii The Seven Brothers Half-a-Cock Strange Meetings The King and His Family Beddou The Language of the Beasts The Apple of Youth

POPULAR TALES OF THE KABYLES

Ali and Ou Ali The Infidel Jew The Sheik's Head The Wagtail and the Jackal The Flute-player The Child The Monkey and the Fisherman The Two Friends The Robber and the Two Pilgrims The Little Child The Wren The Mule, the Jackal, and the Lion Thadhellala The Good Man and the Bad One The Crow and the Child H'ab Sliman The King and His Son Mahomet ben Soltan

MOORISH BALLADS

ROMANCEROS MORISCOS

MOORISH BALLADS

FATIMA'S LOVE

THE BRAGGART REBUKED

"If thou art brave in battle's hour As thou art bold in pleasure's rout; If thou canst make the lances fly As thou canst fling thy words about;

"If thou canst in the vega fight As thou the ladies' eyes canst praise; And show on horseback half the skill That marks thee in the dance's maze;

"Meet with the briskness of the joust The challenge of the deadly lance, And in the play of scimitars Be sprightly as in festive dance;

"If thou art ready in the field As thou art nimble on the square; And canst the front of battle face As though thou flirtest with the fair;

"If thou dost don thy shining mail As lightly as thy festive suit, And listenest to the trumpet call As though it were thy lady's lute;

"And if, as in the gamesome hour Thou flingest round the rattling reed Against the foeman's moated camp, Thou spurrest on thy thundering steed;

"If, when the foe is face to face, Thou boastest as thou oft hast done When far away his ranks were ranged, And the fierce fight had not begun;--

"Go, Zaide, to the Alhambra go, And there defend thy soldier fame; For every tongue is wagging there, And all, derisive, speak thy name.

"And if thou fear to go alone, Take others with thee to thine aid; Thy friends are ready at thy beck, And Zaide need not be afraid!

"It is not in the palace court, Amid the throng of ladies bright, That the good soldier, by his tongue, Proves himself valorous in the fight.

"It is not there his hands can show What in the battle he can do; But where the shock of onset tests The fearless heart, the iron thew.

"Betake thee to the bloody field And let thy sword thy praises sing; But silence is most eloquent Amid the courtiers of the King."

Thus Tarfe wrote, the Moorish knight, His heart so filled with furious rage That where his fiery pen had passed It pierced and rent the flimsy page.

He called his varlet to his side, "Now seek the Alhambra's hall," said he, "And privately to Zaide say That this epistle comes from me;

"And whisper, that none else may hear, And say that I his coming wait, Where Genil's crystal torrent laves The pillars of yon palace gate."

THE ADMIRAL'S FAREWELL

The royal fleet with fluttering sail is waiting in the bay; And brave Mustapha, the Admiral, must start at break of day. His hood and cloak of many hues he swiftly dons, and sets Upon his brow his turban gay with pearls and amulets; Of many tints above his head his plumes are waving wide; Like a crescent moon his scimitar is dangling at his side; And standing at the window, he gazes forth, and, hark! Across the rippling waters floats the summons to embark.

Blow, trumpets; clarions, sound your strain! Strike, kettle-drum, the alarum in refrain. Let the shrill fife, the flute, the sackbut ring A summons to our Admiral, a salvo to our King!

Blow, trumpets; clarions, sound your strain! Strike, kettle-drum, the alarum in refrain. Let fife and flute, and sackbut in accord Proclaim, Aboard! Aboard! Thy pinnace waits thee at the slip, lord Admiral, aboard!

And as he hears the summons Love makes for him reply, "O whither, cruel fortune, wilt thou bid the warrior fly? Must I seek thee in the ocean, where the winds and billows roar? Must I seek thee there, because in vain I sought thee on the shore? And dost thou think the ocean, crossed by my flashing sail, With all its myriad waters and its rivers, can avail To quench the ardent fire of love that rages in my breast, And soothe the fever of my soul into one hour of rest?" And as he mused, in bitter thought, Mustapha reached in haste A balcony; till dawn of day before that house he paced, And all his heart's anxieties he counted o'er and o'er, And, when the darkness of the night toward opening twilight wore, Upon the balcony there came the cause of all his sighs, But a smile was on her rosy lips and a light was in her eyes. "O lovely Zaida," he began, and gazed into her face, "If my presence at thy window is a burden to thy peace, One pledge bestow upon me, one pledge of love, I pray, And let me kiss thy lily hand before I sail away." "I grieve for thy departure," the lady made reply, "And it needs no pledge to tell thee I am faithful till I die, But if one token thou must have, take this ere thou depart; and keep it on thy heart!" The Moor rose in his stirrups, he took it from her hand, 'Twas a piece of lace of gold and silk shaped for a helmet band. There was the wheel of fortune with subtile needle drawn, And as he paused, he heard the sound tumultuous come again, 'Twas from the fleet, down in the bay, and well he knew the strain.

Blow, trumpets; clarions, sound your strain; Strike, kettle-drum, the alarum in refrain. Let fife and flute, and sackbut in accord Proclaim, Aboard! Aboard! Thy pinnace waits thee at the slip, lord Admiral, aboard!

Oh, stay my foes, nor in such haste invite me to the field! Here let me take the triumphs that softer conquests yield! This is the goal of my desire, the aim of my design, That Zaida's hand in mine be placed and her heart beat close to mine! Then spake the fair Sultana, and she dropped a tender tear, "Nay mourn not for the present pain, for future bliss is near. The wings of Time are swift, and they bear a brighter day; And when once the longed-for gift is here 'twill never pass away!" Then the Moor's heart beat high with joy; to smiles were changed his sighs, In silent ecstasy he gazed into the lady's eyes. He rode to meet his waiting fleet, for favoring was the wind, But while his body went on board, he left his heart behind!

Blow, trumpets; clarions, sound your strain! Strike, kettle-drum, the alarum in refrain. Let the shrill fife, the flute, the sackbut ring A summons to our Admiral, a salvo to our King.

MORIANA AND GALVAN

Twas Princess Moriana, Upon a castle's height, That played with Moorish Galvan At cards for her delight; And oft he lost the stakes he set, Full many a coin I wis; When Moriana lost, she gave Her hand for him to kiss. And after hours of pleasure Moor Galvan sank to sleep; And soon the lady saw a knight Descend the mountain steep; His voice was raised in sorrow, His eyes with tears were wet, For lovely Moriana His heart could ne'er forget. For her, upon St. John's Day, While she was gathering flowers, The Moors had made a captive, Beneath her father's towers. And Moriana raised her eyes And saw her lover ride, And on her cheeks her Moorish lord The sparkling tears descried. With anger raged his spirit, And thus to her he cried: "What ails thee, gentle lady? Why flows with tears thine eye? If Moors of mine have done thee wrong, I swear that they shall die; If any of thy maidens Have caused thee this distress, The whip across their shoulders Shall avenge their wickedness. Or, if the Christian countrymen Have sorrow for thee made, I will, with conquering armies, Their provinces invade. The warlike weapons that I don Are festal robes to me; To me the din of battle Is sweet tranquillity; The direst toils the warrior bears With steadfast joy I meet; To me the watch that nightlong lasts Is like a slumber sweet." "No Moors of thine within these halls Have caused to me this pain; No maidens waiting in my bower Have showed to me disdain; Nor have my Christian kinsmen To mourn my spirit made, Provoking thee in vengeance Their province to invade. Vain the deep cause of my distress From Galvan's eye to hide-- 'Tis that I see down yonder mount A knight in armor ride. 'Tis such a sight that does my tears From very heart-springs move; For yonder knight is all to me, My husband and my love." Straight the Moor's cheek with anger flushed, Till red eclipsed the brown, And his clenched fist he lifted As if to strike her down. He gnashed his teeth with passion, The fangs with blood were red, He called his slaves and bade them Strike off the lady's head. He bade them bind and take her First to the mountain's height, That she the doom might suffer Within her husband's sight; But all the lady answered, When she was brought to death, Were words of faith and loyalty Borne on her parting breath: "Behold, I die a Christian, And here repeat my vows Of faithfulness to yonder knight, My loved and lawful spouse."

THE BEREAVED FATHER

"Rise up, rise up, thou hoary head, What madness causes thy delay? Thou killest swine on Thursday morn, And eatest flesh on fasting day.

"'Tis now seven years since first I trod The valley and the wandering wood; My feet were bare, my flesh was torn, And all my pathway stained in blood.

"Ah, mournfully I seek in vain The Emperor's daughter, who had gone A prisoner made by caitiff Moors, Upon the morning of St. John.

"She gathered flowers upon the plain, She plucked the roses from the spray, And in the orchard of her sire They found and bore the maid away."

These words has Moriana heard, Close nestled in the Moor's embrace; The tears that welled from out her eyes Have wet her captor's swarthy face.

THE WARDEN OF MOLINA

The warden of Molina, ah! furious was his speed, As he dashed his glittering rowels in the flank of his good steed, And his reins left dangling from the bit, along the white highway, For his mind was set to speed his horse, to speed and not to stay. He rode upon a grizzled roan, and with the wind he raced, And the breezes rustled round him like a tempest in the waste. In the Plaza of Molina at last he made his stand, And in a voice of thunder he uttered his command:

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