Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/153



A moment gazed the stern old Moor, A scant tear in his eye did gather, For as he gazed, she muttered o'er A blessing on her cruel father.

The hand that grasped the crooked blade, Relaxed its gripe, then clutched it stronger; The tear that that dark eye hath shed On the swart cheek, is seen no longer.

'Tis past!—the bloody deed is done, A father's hand hath sealed the slaughter! Yet in Grenada many a one Bewails the fate of Selim's daughter.

And many a Moorish damsel hath Made pilgrimage to Alpuxara; And breathed her vows where Selim's wrath O'ertook the Spanish youth and Zara.