Bearing all their gifts divinest;
He, who garlanded Mezquitas
With the trophies of the vanquished;
He, who peopled our Mazmorras*
With such crowds of Christian pris'ners,
Who already twice has arm'd him
Less with steel than courage girded,
And his country from its perils
Has already twice deliver'd;
He, the proud Abenzulema
To his distant exile driven,
There invited by his monarch,
Or perchance by love invited;
For the Moor adored a Mooress,
One for whom the king had sighed,
Far beyond idea lovely,

And discreet beyond idea.

Some few flowers the lady gave him,
Flowers to him the sweetest, brightest,
But for the too-jealous monarch
They were fruits of poisonous virtue,
And that poison work'd within him.

De los mozos envidiado
Y admirado de las viejas
Y de los niños y el vulgo
Señalado con el dedo;
El querido de las damas
Por cortesano y discreto
Llegó hasta alli regalado
De la fortuna y del tiempo ;
El que vistió las mezquitas
De victoriosos trofeos
El que pobló las mazmorras
De Christianos caballeros
El que dos veces armado
Mas de valor que de acero
A su patria libertó

De dos peligrosos cercos
El gallardo Abenzulema
Sale à cumplir el destierro
A que le convida el Rey

* Mazmorra;

the subterranean dungeon of the Moors.

From his court the Moor is driven,
His fidelity is questioned-
But the king's dishonor hidden,
Forth the noble Moor is coming
On a steed the proudest, whitest;
He has drank of Quadalquivir,
And upon its banks has idled,
Covered o'er with splendid trappings,
Moorish work, the fairest, richest,
All adorned with gorgeous labor;
Black and gold the costly bridle,
And the steed stepped forth so proudly,
Pride and grace so well commingled,
That at every trace he measur'd
From the ground up to the girdle.
O'er his raven Moorish garment
His albornoz white is circled,
For they are becoming emblems

Innocence and grief united;

Thousand lance-heads skirt the border,

Round his upper garment, written

O el amor que es lo mas cierto.
Servio à una Mora el Moro
Por quien el Rey anda muerto
En todo extremo hermosa
Y discreta en todo extremo.
Dióles unas flores la Dama
él flores fuéron

Que para
Y para el zeloso rey
Yerbas de mortal veneno.
Pues de la yerba tocado
Lo manda desterrar luego
Culpando su lealtad
Para disculpar sus zelos.
Sale pues el fuerte Moro
Sobre un cavallo overo
Que al Quadalquivir el agua
Le bebió y lo pació el heno.
Con un hermoso jaez
Rica labor de Marruecos
Las piezas de filigrana
La mochila de oro y negro.
Tan gallardo iba el caballo

In the language of Arabia,

"For my errors" was inscrib'd there.

On his head a dark blue turban
Hanging o'er the side sinister,

Three black plumes tower'd proudly o'er him
In a precious jewel fixed.

Plumes, he mounted to betoken
That his fond desires were winged,
In the wind they still are waving
Tho' from glory disunited;
Now he bears but his good sabre
By Toledo's monarch given.
Thus the valiant Moor departed,
Valiant and unbending still he
Journeyed then with Marmolejo's
And Arjona's swain Alcaides.
Many a knight is gather'd round him,
All the people near him mingled ;
And the ladies, as he journied,

Gave him looks the friendliest, kindest,
Many a briny tear is falling

Que en grave y airoso huello
Con ambas manos media

Lo que hay de la ancha al suelo.
Sobre una marlota negra

Un blanco albornoz se ha puesto
Por vestirse los colores
De su inocencia y su duelo
Bordó mil hierros de lanzas
Por el capellar, y en medio
En Arabigo una letra
Que dice-Estos son mis yerros
Bonete lleva turqui

Derribado al lado izquierdo
Y sobre el tres plumas presas
De un preciado camafeo.
No quiere salir sin plumas
Porque vuelen sus deseos
Si quien le quita la tierra
Tambien no le quita el viento.
No lleva mas de un alfange
Que le dió el rey de Toledo
*Porque para un enemigo
El le basta y su derecho

From those eyes of beauty lighted;
Showers of fragrance fall upon him,
From the balconies then sprinkled;
Then the loveliest Balaxa,
Mourning in her deep retirement
O'er the monarch's desperate folly,
Her fair tresses strangely wilder'd,
Hearing such a loud confusion
Sought the balcony, and listen'd;
Then in melancholy muteness
Uttered with a tongue of silence:
Go in peace! thou'rt not abandoned,
Blessings still shall walk beside thee,
He who drives thee now from Jaen
From my bosom cannot drive thee;
Plaintive then he turn'd towards her,
Tho' I go I tarry with thee,
And against the monarch's baseness
In thy truth I will confide me.
Then he hasten'd on his journey,
Fix'd his eyes upon the maiden,
Stole a hundred thousand glances
And to Andujar meekly hied he."

Desta suerte sale el Moro
Con animoso denuedo
En medio de los Alcaldes
De Arjona y del Marmolejo
Caballeros le acompañan
Y le sigue todo el pueblo
Y las Damas por do pasan
Se asoman llorando à verlo
Lagrimas vierten ahora
De sus tristes ojos bellos
Las que desde sus balcones
Aguas de olor le vertieron
La bellisima Balaxa

Que llora en su aposento
Las sinrazones del rey
La pagaban sus cabellos :
Como tanto estruendo oyó
A un balcon salió corriendo
E enmudecida le dixo
Dando voces con silencio:

This must be read with indulgence. It is perhaps the first attempt to naturalize the asonantes of the Peninsula; and Mr. Southey might teach us how perilous it is to embark on an almost untried ocean. We presume not, indeed, that the production of our asonantes is likely to be referred to, as one of the most glorious events of the Georgian era, and should put on weeds of penitence if we had done the asonante measure the "unkind wrong" with which the hexameter has been unfortunately visited.

Before quitting this part of our theme, it is right to add, that the merits of Casiri, though very considerable in connection with the Arabic literature, have perhaps been greatly over-rated. He did much, no doubt, to fill up the chasms left by others; but he did every thing hurriedly, and many things erroneously. He is not to be trusted for correctness, either in facts, persons, or dates. He has introduced individuals, who never had any existence confounded one name with anotherhe has falsified chronology, and played at blindman's buff with history. He knew Arabic well, but he was no Arabic scholar.

The Trobadores were the founders of modern verse, and form the link which unites the classic poets of Greece and Rome with those of later times, at least as far as regards the southern nations of Europe. The Provençal, Lemosin, or Valencian language, singularly harmonious and plastic, was used in various and not very distinct idioms, through the southern and eastern parts of France, the eastern provinces of Spain, and the adjacent islands of the Mediterranean. It is still the vernacular dialect of Catalonia and the Balearic Isles. In Valencia, it has been corrupted by the daily inroads of the Castillian, or pure Spanish; and even in Catalonia it has ceased to be the language of literature, though some poems of merit were published in it during the last century. The active inquiries of