Zaida's Inconstancy

O fairest Zaida, thou whose face brings rapture to mine eyes!
O fairest Zaida, in whose smile my soul's existence lies!
Fairest of Moorish maidens, yet in revengeful mood,
Above all Moorish maidens, stained by black ingratitude.
'Tis of thy golden locks that love has many a noose entwined,
And souls of free men at thy sight full oft are stricken blind;
Yet tell me, proud one, tell me, what pleasure canst thou gain
From showing to the world a heart so fickle and so vain?
And, since my adoration thou canst not fail to know,
How is it that thy tender heart can treat thy lover so?
And art thou not content my fondest hopes to take away,
But thou must all my hope, my life, destroy, in utter ruin lay?
My faithful love, sweet enemy! how ill dost thou requite!
And givest in exchange for it but coldness and despite;
Thy promises, thy pledge of love, thou to the gale wouldst fling;
Enough that they were thine, false girl, that they should all take wing.
Remember how upon that day thou gavest many a sign
Of love and lavished'st the kiss which told me thou wert mine.
Remember, lovely Zaida, though memory bring thee pain,
Thy bliss when 'neath thy window I sang my amorous strain.
By day, before the window, I saw my darling move,
At night, upon the balcony, I told thee of my love.
If I were late or absence detained me from thy sight,
Then jealous rage distraught thy heart, thine eyes with tears were
bright.
But now that thou hast turned from me, I come thy face to greet,
And thou biddest me begone, and pass no longer through thy street.
Thou biddest me look on thee no more, nor even dare to write
The letter or the _billet-doux,_ that caused thee once delight.
Yes, Zaida, all thy favors, thy love, thy vows, are shown
To be but false and faithless, since thou art faithless grown.
But why? thou art a woman, to fickle falseness born;
Thou prizest those who scorn thee--those who love thee thou dost scorn.
I change not, thou art changed, whose heart once fondly breathed my name;
But the more thy bosom turns to ice, the fiercer burns my flame;
For all thy coldness I with love and longing would repay,
For passion founded on good faith can never die away.