Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/576

534 One what best his love might claim

Hath lost, another wealth, or fame.

Woe is me, 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

Their loss, so heavy and so deep;

Granada's ladies, all she rears

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;

The King weeps as a woman o'er

His loss, for it is much and sore.

Woe is me, Alhama! [First published, Childe Harold, Canto IV., 1818.]