Captive Zara

In Palma there was little joy, so lovely Zara found;
She felt herself a slave, although by captive chain unbound.
In Palma's towers she wandered from all the guests apart;
For while Palma had her body, 'twas Baza held her heart.
And while her heart was fixed on one, her charms no less enthralled
The heart of this brave cavalier, Celin Andalla called.
Ah, hapless, hapless maiden, for in her deep despair
She did not know what grief her face had caused that knight to bear;
And though the Countess Palma strove with many a service kind
To show her love, to soothe the pang that wrung the maiden's mind,
Yet borne upon the tempest of the captive's bitter grief,
She never lowered the sail to give her suffering heart relief.
And, in search of consolation to another captive maid,
She told the bitter sorrow to no one else displayed.
She told it, while the tears ran fast, and yet no balm did gain,
For it made more keen her grief, I ween, to give another pain.
And she said to her companion, as she clasped her tender hand:
"I was born in high Granada, my loved, my native land;
For years within Alhambra's courts my life ran on serene;
I was a princess of the realm and handmaid to a queen.
Within her private chamber I served both night and day,
And the costliest jewels of her crown in my protection lay.
To her I was the favorite of all the maids she knew;
And, ah! my royal mistress I loved, I loved her true!
No closer tie I owned on earth than bound me to her side;
No closer tie; I loved her more than all the world beside.
But more I loved than aught on earth, the gallant Moorish knight,
Brave Celin, who is solely mine, and I his sole delight.
Yes, he was brave, and all men own the valor of his brand;
Yes, and for this I loved him more than monarchs of the land.
For me he lived, for me he fought, for me he mourned and wept,
When he saw me in this captive home like a ship to the breakers swept.
He called on heaven, and heaven was deaf to all his bitter cry,
For the victim of the strife of kings, of the bloody war, was I;
It was my father bade him first to seek our strong retreat.
Would God that he had never come to Baza's castle seat!
Would God that he had never come, an armored knight, to stand
Amid the soldiers that were ranked beneath my sire's command.
He came, he came, that valiant Moor, beneath our roof to rest.
His body served my father; his heart, my sole behest;
What perils did he face upon that castle's frowning height!
Winning my father's praise, he gained more favor in my sight.
And when the city by the bands of Christians was assailed,
My soul 'neath terrors fiercer still in lonely terror quailed.
For I have lost my sire, and I have lost my lover brave,
For here I languish all alone, a subject and a slave.
And yet the Moor, altho' he left with me his loving heart,
I fear may have forgotten that I own his better part.
And now the needle that I ply is witness to the state
Of bondage, which I feel to-day with heart disconsolate.
And here upon the web be writ, in the Arabian tongue,
The legend that shall tell the tale of how my heart is wrung.
Here read: 'If thou hast ta'en my heart when thou didst ride away,
Remember that myself, my living soul, behind thee stay.'
And on the other side these words embroidered would I place:
'The word shall never fail that once I spake before thy face.'
And on the border underneath this posy, written plain:
'The promise that I made to thee still constant shall remain.'
And last of all, this line I add, the last and yet the best:
'Thou ne'er shalt find inconstancy in this unchanging breast.'
Thus runs the embroidery of love, and in the midst appears
A phoenix, painted clear, the bird that lives eternal years.
For she from the cold ashes of life at its last wane,
Takes hope, and spreads her wings and soars through skyey tracks again.
And there a hunter draws his bow outlined with skilful thread,
And underneath a word which says, 'Nay, shoot not at the dead.'"
Thus spake the Moorish maiden, and in her eyes were tears of grief,
Tho' in her busy needle she seemed to find relief.
And the kindly countess called from far: "Zara, what aileth thee?
Where art thou? For I called, and yet thou didst not answer me."