wished it to be seen
That the soul of the King's Admiral was white and true and clean.
Oh, swift and full of mettle was the steed which that day bore
Mustapha, the High Admiral, down to the wave-beat shore!
The haughty Turk sails forth at morn, that Malta he may take,
But many the greater conquest his gallant men shall make;
For his heart is high and his soul is bent on death or victory,
And he pauses, as the clashing sound comes from the distant sea;

Blow, trumpets; clarions, sound your strain!
Strike, kettle-drum, the alarum in refrain.
Let fife and flute, and sackbut in accord
Proclaim, Aboard! Aboard!
Thy pinnace waits thee at the slip, lord Admiral, aboard!

And as he hears the summons Love makes for him reply,
"O whither, cruel fortune, wilt thou bid the warrior fly?
Must I seek thee in the ocean, where the winds and billows roar?
Must I seek thee there, because in vain I sought thee on the shore?
And dost thou think the ocean, crossed by my flashing sail,
With all its myriad waters and its rivers, can avail
To quench the ardent fire of love that rages in my breast,
And soothe the fever of my soul into one hour of rest?"
And as he mused, in bitter thought, Mustapha reached in haste
A balcony; till dawn of day before that house he paced,
And all his heart's anxieties he counted o'er and o'er,
And, when the darkness of the night toward opening twilight wore,
Upon the balcony there came the cause of all his sighs,
But a smile was on her rosy lips and a light was in her eyes.
"O lovely Zaida," he began, and gazed into her face,
"If my presence at thy window is a burden to thy peace,
One pledge bestow upon me, one pledge of love, I pray,
And let me kiss thy lily hand before I sail away."
"I grieve for thy departure," the lady made reply,
"And it needs no pledge to tell thee I am faithful till I die,
But if one token thou must have, take this ere thou depart;
('Twas fashioned by these hands of mine) and keep it on thy heart!"
The Moor rose in his stirrups, he took it from her hand,
'Twas a piece of lace of gold and silk shaped for a helmet band.
There was the wheel of fortune with subtile needle drawn,
(Ah, Fortune that had left him there dejected and forlorn!)
And as he paused, he heard the sound tumultuous come again,
'Twas from the fleet, down in the bay, and well he knew the strain.

Blow, trumpets;