terça-feira, julho 01, 2008


Which, in the Arabic language, is to the following purport. Translated by ~~ Lord Byron 1817
The Moorish King rides up and down
Through Granada's royal town;
From Elvira's gates to those
Of Bivarambla on he goes.
Woe is me, Alhama !
Letters to the monarch tell
How Alhama's city fell;
In the fire the scroll he threw,
And the messenger he slew.
Woe is me, Alhama !
He quits his mule, and mounts his horse,
And through the street directs his course;
Through the street of Zacatin
To the Alhambra spurring in.
Woe is me, Alhama !
When the Alhambra walls he gain'd,
On the moment he ordain'd
That the trumpet straight should sound
With the silver clarion round.
Woe is me, Alhama !
And when the hollow drums of war
Beat the loud alarm afar,
That the Moors of town and plain
Might answer to the martial strain,
Woe is me, Alhama !
Then the Moors, by this aware
That bloody Mars recall'd them there,
One by one, and two by two,
To a mighty squadron grew.
Woe is me, Alhama !
Out then spake an aged Moor
In these words the king before:
"Wherefore call on us, oh King?
What may mean this gathering?"
Woe is me, Alhama !
"Friends ! Ye have, alas ! To know
Of a most disastrous blow,
That the Christians, stern and bold,
Have obtain'd Alhama's hold."
Woe is me, Alhama !
Out then spake old Alfaqui,
With his beard so white to see,
"Good King, thou are justly served,
Good King, this thou hast deserved.
Woe is me Alhama !
"By thee were slain, in evil hour,
The Abecerrage, Granada's flower;
And strangers were received by thee
Of Cordova the chivalry.
Woe is me, Alhama !
"And for this, oh King ! Is sent
On thee a double chastisement,
Thee and thine, thy crown and realm,
One last wreck shall overwhelm,
Woe is me, Alhama !
"He who holds no laws in awe,
He must perish by the law;
And Granada must be won,
And thyself with her undone."
Woe is me, Alhama !
Fire flash'd from out the old Moor's eyes,
The Monarch's wrath began to rise,
Because he answer'd, and because
He spake exceeding well of laws.
Woe is me, Alhama !
"There is no law to say such things
As may disgust the ear of kings:" ---
Thus, snorting with his choler, said
The Moorish King, and doom'd him dead.
Woe is me, Alhama !
Moor Alfaqui ! Moor Alfaqui !
Though thy beard so hoary be,
The King hath sent to have thee seized,
For Alhama's loss displeased.
Woe is me, Alhama !
And to fix thy head upon
High Alhambra's loftiest stone;
That this for thee should be the law,
And others tremble when they saw.
Woe is me, Alhama !
"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 !
"But on my soul Alhama weighs,
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 !
"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 !
"I lost a damsel in that hour,
Of all the land the lovliest flower;
Doubloons a hundred I would pay,
And think her ransom cheap that day."
Woe is me, Alhama !
And as these things the old Moor said,
They sever'd from the trunk his head;
And to the Alhambra's wall with speed
"Twas carried, as the King decreed..
Woe is me, Alhama !
And men and infants therein weep
Their loss, so heavy and so deep;
Granada's ladies, all she rears
Within her walls, burst into tears.
Woe is me, Alhama !
And from the windows o'er the walls
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 !

Nenhum comentário:

Postar um comentário