Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and Holland: Vols. XIV–XV. 1876–79.
A Very Mournful Ballad
By Spanish BalladOn the Siege and Conquest of Alhama, Which, in the Arabic Language, Is to the Following Purport
T
Through Granada’s royal town;
From Elvira’s gates to those
Of Bivarambla on he goes.
Woe is me, Alhama!
How Alhama’s city fell:
In the fire the scroll he threw,
And the messenger he slew.
Woe is me, Alhama!
And through the street directs his course;
Through the street of Zacatin
To the Alhambra spurring in.
Woe is me, Alhama!
On the moment he ordained
That the trumpet straight should sound
With the silver clarion round.
Woe is me, Alhama!
Beat the loud alarm afar,
That the Moors of town and plain
Might answer to the martial strain;
Woe is me, Alhama!
That bloody Mars recalled them there,
One by one, and two by two,
To a mighty squadron grew.
Woe is me, Alhama!
In these words the king before,
“Wherefore call on us, O King?
What may mean this gathering?”
Woe is me, Alhama!
Of a most disastrous blow,
That the Christians, stern and bold,
Have obtained Alhama’s hold.”
Woe is me, Alhama!
With his beard so white to see,
“Good King! thou art justly served,
Good King! this thou hast deserved.
Woe is me, Alhama!
The Abencerrage, Granada’s flower;
And strangers were received by thee
Of Cordova, the Chivalry.
Woe is me, Alhama!
On thee a double chastisement;
Thee and thine, thy crown and realm,
One last wreck shall overwhelm.
Woe is me, Alhama!
He must perish by the law;
And Granada must be won,
And thyself with her undone.”
Woe is me, Alhama!
The monarch’s wrath began to rise
Because be answered, and because
He spake exceeding well of laws.
Woe is me, Alhama!
As may disgust the ear of kings,”
Thus, snorting with his choler, said
The Moorish king, and doomed him dead.
Woe is me, Alhama!
Though thy beard so hoary be,
The king hath sent to have thee seized,
For Alhama’s loss displeased.
Woe is me, Alhama!
High Alhambra’s loftiest stone;
That this for thee should be the law,
And others tremble when they saw.
Woe is me, Alhama!
Let these words of mine go forth;
Let the Moorish monarch know
That to him I nothing owe.
Woe is me, Alhama!
And on my inmost spirit preys;
And if the king his land hath lost,
Yet others may have lost the most.
Woe is me, Alhama!
Their lords, and valiant men their lives;
One what best his love might claim
Hath lost, another wealth or fame.
Woe is me, Alhama!
Of all the land the loveliest flower;
Doubloons a hundred I would pay,
And think her ransom cheap that day.”
Woe is me, Alhama!
They severed from the trunk his head;
And to the Alhambra’s wall with speed
’T was carried, as the king decreed.
Woe is me, Alhama!
Their loss, so heavy and so deep;
Granada’s ladies, all she rears
Within her walls, burst into tears.
Woe is me, Alhama!
The sable web of mourning falls;
The king weeps as a woman o’er
His loss, for it is much and sore.
Woe is me, Alhama!