High Alhambra's loftiest stone; That this for thee should be the law, Woe is me, Alhama! 17. "Cavalier! and man of worth! "Let these words of mine go forth; "Let the Moorish Monarch know, "That to him I nothing owe: Woe is me, Alhama! 18. "But on my soul Alhama weighs, 19. "Sires have lost their children, wives "Their lords, and valiant men their lives; "One what best his love might claim "Hath lost, another wealth, or fame. Woe is me Alhama! 20. Perdi una hija donzella Ay de mi, Alhama! 21. Diziendo assi al hacen Alfaqui, Y la elevan al Alhambra, Assi come el Rey lo manda. Ay de mi, Alhama! 22. Hombres, niños y mugeres, Quantas en Granada avia. Ay de mi, Alhama! 23. Por las calles y ventanas Llora el Rey como fembra, Qu' es mucho lo que perdia. Ay de mi, Alhama! 20. "I lost a damsel in that hour, "Of all the land the loveliest flower; “Doubloons a hundred I would pay, “And think her ransom cheap that day.” Woe is me, Alhama ! 21. And as these things the old Moor said, They severed from the trunk his head; And to the Alhambra's wall with speed 'Twas carried, as the King decreed. Woe is me, Alhama! 22. And men and infants therein weep Within her walls, burst into tears. Woe is me, Alhama! 23. And from the windows o'er the walls The sable web of mourning falls; SONETTO DI VITTORELLI. PER MONACA. Sonetto composto in nome di un genitore, a cui era morta poco innanzi una figlia appena maritata; è diretto al genitore della sacra sposa. Di due vaghe donzelle, oneste, accorte Lieti e miseri padri il ciel ne feo, Il ciel, che degne di più nobil sorte L' una e l' altra veggendo, ambo chiedeo. La mia fu tolta da veloce morte A le fumanti tede d' imeneo : La tua, Francesco, in sugellate porte Corro a quel marmo, in cui la figlia or posa, TRANSLATION FROM VITTORELLI. ON A NUN. Sonnet composed in the name of a father whose daughter had recently died shortly after her marriage; and addressed to the father of her who had lately taken the veil. Of two fair virgins, modest, though admired, Heaven made us happy; and now, wretched sires, Heaven for a nobler doom their worth desires, And gazing upon either, both required. Mine, while the torch of Hymen newly fired Becomes extinguish'd, soon-too soon-expires: But thine, within the closing grate retired, Eternal captive, to her God aspires. But thou at least from out the jealous door, Which shuts between your never-meeting eyes, May'st hear her sweet and pious voice once more: I to the marble, where my daughter lies, Rush, the swoln flood of bitterness I pour, And knock, and knock, and knock—but none replies. VOL. V. T |