THE MOORMEN’S MARCH FROM GRANADA.

An Ancient Ballad. From the Spanish,

“Reduan, I but lately heard From thy mouth the sounding word, That for me the town of Jaen In one night thou wouldst obtain; Reduan, if thou do the same, Double pay thou mayest claim; Save thy word perform’d I see, From Granada thou shalt flee, Banish’d to a far frontier, Where thy lady shall not cheer.” Reduan, at the Monarch’s side, With unalter’d mien replied: “Though the word I never said, It I’ll do, or lose my head.” Reduan crav’d one thousand men— Five the Monarch gave him then. From Elvira’s portal-arch See the cavalcado march: Many a Moor of birth was there, Many a bay, high-blooded mare, Many a lance in fist of might, Many a buckler beaming bright, Many a green marlote is spied, Many a ren aljube beside, Many a plume of gallant air, Many a rich-grain’d cappellare, Many a boot a-borzegui, Many a silken string and tie, Many a spur of gold there clung, Many a silver stirrup swung. All the men that rode that day Were expert at battle-fray: Midst of all that pomp and pow’r Chyquo Monarch of the Moor. Moorish dames and maidens high Them from proud Alhambra eye; And the Moorish Queen so grey In this guise was heard to say: “Speed thee hence my son and love! Mahomet thy Guardian prove! Crown’d with honor back from Jaen May he bring thee soon again.”