Friday, 10 April 2015

Moorish Ballad - José Zorilla

And there the Sultan stood,
And murmurs heard,
While watching jealously.

"They give me love of price untold.
Rich pearls and gold,
And bring me garlands dear;
Yet say, O flower! to fortune rare
And beauty fair,
What still is wanting here?

They give me festival and state.
And gardens great,
To Eden's paradise near;
But, garden, say, — with fortune rare
And beauty fair,
What still is wanting here?

"They give me plumes as bright
As fleecy light.
Veiling the charms they fear;
O, say, thou bird! to fortune rare
And beauty fair,
What still is wanting here?

"Nothing appears in frightful guise
Before my eyes.
Nothing ealls forth a tear;
Then say, O moon! to fortune rare
And beauty fair,
What still is wanting here?"

So far she sang, —when silently
And suddenly
A shadow came across the light,—
It was the Sultan, at the side
Of his fair bride, —
She started, half in fright.

"Thou hast all things," said he to her,
"In thy tower, —
Flowers and jewels dear;
Tell me, loved one, to thy portion,
To thy passion,
What still is wanting? here?

"What is there in the garden old,
Or waters cold,
What has the bird or flower,
That with the dawn of every day
I do not lay
At thy own feet, a dower?

"Tell me what thou wishest, sweet one,
Charm or fortune,—
Ask me even for a folly."
"Sultan, these birds that I love, singing,
These flowers springing.
Have air and liberty!"

José Zorilla (1817 - 1893) Spain

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