all my hopes to kill;
For thou shalt learn that all the world,
In leaguer, cannot bend my will.

"And France can tell how many a time
I fought upon the tented field,
And forced upon their bended knee
Her loftiest paladins to yield.

"I vanquished many a valiant knight
Who on his shield the lilies bore;
And on Vandalia's plain subdued
Of Red Cross warriors many a score.

"The noblest I had brought to yield
Upon Granada's gory plain,
Did I not shrink with such vile blood
The honor of my sword to stain."

At this the trumpets called to arms;
Without one farewell word each knight
Turned from the lady of his heart
And spurred his steed in headlong flight.

THE KING'S DECISION

Amid a thousand sapient Moors
From Andalusia came,
Was an ancient Moor, who ruled the land,
Rey Bucar was his name.

And many a year this sage had dwelt
With the lady he loved best;
And at last he summoned the Cortes,
As his leman made request.

The day was set on which his lords
And commoners should meet,
And they talked to the King of his wide realm's need,
As the King sat in his seat.

And many the laws they passed that day;
And among them a law that said
That the lover who took a maid for his love
The maid of his choice must wed;
And he who broke this ordinance
Should pay for it with his head.

And all agreed that the law was good;
Save a cousin of the King,
Who came and stood before him,
With complaint and questioning;

"This law, which now your Highness
Has on your lieges laid,
I like it not, though many hearts
It has exultant made.

"Me only does it grieve, and bring
Disaster on my life;
For the lady that I love the best,
Is already wedded wife;

"Wedded she is, wedded amiss;
Ill husband has she got.
And oft does pity fill my heart
For her distressful lot.

"And this one thing I tell thee, King,
To none else has it been told:
If I think her love is silver,
She thinks my love is gold."

Then spake Rey Bucar in reply,
This sentence uttered he:
"If thy love be wedded wife, the law
Hath no penalty for thee."

ALMANZOR AND BOBALIAS

The King Almanzor slept one night,
And, oh! his sleep was blest;
Not all the seven Moorish kings
Could dare to break his rest.

The infante Bobalias
Bethought of him and