Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/275

Rh 'T is blood that dark tenacious stain; Blood of the murder'd dead: Alas! how many throng it o'er, Nor think on what they tread!

Five hundred years shone younger The Alcazar to the day, Its lofty walls yet lustrous, And faultless its array; And brilliant were the enamels Which its gilded roofs reveal, It show'd itself the mansion fit Of the king of proud Castile; When on one balmy morn it chanced Of florid May betide, In that saloon whose balcony Is on the plaza's side, Two persons of illustrious mien In silence deep were there; One was a Cavalier, and one A Lady passing fair. A Barbary carpet richly wove Upon the floor was laid, The gift or tribute which the Moor Granada's king had paid;