"R"

THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA

ISE up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town! From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing, And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpets' lordly

blowing;

And banners bright from lattice light are waving everywhere, And the tall, tall plume of our cousin's bridegroom floats proudly in the air:

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down;
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!

"Arise, arise, Xarifa! I see Andalla's face;

He bends him to the people with a calm and princely grace:
Through all the land of Xeres and banks of Guadalquivir

Rode forth bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely, never.
Yon tall plume waving o'er his brow, of purple mixed with white,
I guess 'twas wreathed by Zara, whom he will wed to-night.
Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down;
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!

"What aileth thee, Xarifa? what makes thine eyes look down? Why stay ye from the window far, nor gaze with all the town? I've heard you say on many a day- and sure you said the truth

Andalla rides without a peer 'mong all Granada's youth;
Without a peer he rideth, and yon milk-white horse doth go,
Beneath his stately master, with a stately step and slow.
Then rise-oh rise, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down:
Unseen here through the lattice, you may gaze with all the town!"

The Zegri lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down,
Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the town;

But though her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers strove,
And though her needle pressed the silk, no flower Xarifa wove:
One bonny rosebud she had traced before the noise drew nigh,-
That bonny bud a tear effaced, slow dropping from her eye.
"No-no," she sighs: "bid me not rise, nor lay my cushion down,
To gaze upon Andalla with all the gazing town!"-

"Why rise ye not, Xarifa, nor lay your cushion down?
Why gaze ye not, Xarifa, with all the gazing town?
Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells, and how the people cry!
He stops at Zara's palace-gate; - why sit ye still-oh why?” —

"At Zara's gate stops Zara's mate: in him shall I discover

The dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and was

my lover?

I will not rise, with weary eyes, nor lay my cushion down,

To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing town!"

Spanish: Author Unknown.

Translation of John Gibson Lockhart.

RIVALS

RAY in the east,

GRAY

Gray in the west, and a moon.

Dim gleam the lamps of the ended feast

Through the misty dawn of June;

And I turn to watch her go

Swift as the swallows flee,
Side by side with Joaquin Castro,
Heart by heart with me.

Jasmine star afloat

In her soft hair's dusky strands;
Jasmine white is her swelling throat,
And jasmine white her hands.
Ah, the plea of that clinging hand

Through the whirl of that wild waltz tune!
Lost-lost for a league of land,

Lying dark 'neath the sinking moon!

Over yon stream

The casa rests on its hard clay floor,
Its red tiles dim in the misty gleam;

Old Pedro Vidal at the door,

And his small eye ranges keen

Over vistas of goodly land—

Brown hills, with wild-oat sweeps between,
Bought with his daughter's hand.

Tangled and wreathed,

The wild boughs over the wild streams meet;
And over the swamp flowers musky-breathed,

And the cresses at their feet;

And over the dimpled springs,

Where the deep brown shadows flaunt,

And the heron folds his ivory wings
And waits in his ferny haunt.

Side-scarred peaks

Where the gray sage hangs like a smoke,
And the vultures wipe their bloody beaks,
From the feast in the crotchèd oak,—
You are Castro's, hemming his acres in;

And I his vaquero, who o'er you rove,
Hold wealth he would barter you all to win,-
The wealth of her broad sweet love.

Joaquin Castro

Rides up from her home where the stream-mists hang, And the cañon sides toss to and fro

The tread of his black mustang

Half wild, a haughty beast,

Scarce held by the taut-drawn rein;

And a madness leaps into my breast,

And that wild waltz whirls in my brain.

By his mountain streams

We meet, and the waves glint through the shades; And we light the morn with long thin gleams,

And wake it with clash of blades.

From some pale crag is borne

The owl's derisive laugh;

And the gray deer flies, like a shadow of dawn,
From the tide it fain would quaff.

A sudden wheel,

Then away, away, and the far hush rings
With hoof-beat, and chime of spurrèd heel;
And the blue air winds and sings

In the coils from each round gathering strength,
Ere I rise in my saddle for truer throw,
That the rope may spring its serpent length,
And drag from his seat my foe.

Was it an owl

Speedily flitting the trail across,

Or a twisted bough in its monk-like cowl
And robe of the long gray moss?

Or the race has frenzied the black's wild brain?
He rears, to the stout rein gives no heed,

XXVIII-1042

Then backward, backward-curls and mane
Intermingled, necks broken, rider and steed.

Ah, señor,

She is mine. It was all long years ago:
And at eve, when we sit in our vine-hung door,
She speaks of Joaquin Castro,

How they found him there; and sweet drops start
From sweeter eyes. And who shall know
That the brand of Cain burns red on my heart,
Since the scar was spared my brow?

VIRGINIA PEYTON FAUNTLEROY.

L

CARMEN

GITANILLA! Tall dragoons,

In Andalusian afternoons,
With ogling eye and compliment
Smiled on you, as along you went
Some sleepy street of old Seville-
Twirled with military skill

Mustaches; buttoned uniforms

Of Spanish yellow bowed your charms.

Proud, wicked head, and hair blue-black!
Whence your mantilla, half thrown back,
Discovered shoulders and bold breast
Bohemian brown! And you were dressed
In some short skirt of gipsy red

Of smuggled stuff; thence stockings dead
White silk, exposed with many a hole,
Through which your plump legs roguish stole
A fleshly look; and tiny toes

In red morocco shoes with bows

Of scarlet ribbons. Daintily

You walked by me, and I did see

Your oblique eyes, your sensuous lip,

That gnawed the rose you once did flip

At bashful José's nose, while loud

Laughed the gaunt guards among the crowd.

And in your brazen chemise thrust,

Heaved with the swelling of your bust,

The bunch of white acacia blooms

Whiffed past my nostrils hot perfumes.
As in a cool neveria

I ate an ice with Mérimée,

Dark Carmencita, you passed gay,
All holiday-bedizenèd,

A new mantilla on your head;

A crimson dress bespangled fierce;
And crescent gold hung in your ears,
Shone, wrought morisco; and each shoe,
Cordovan leather spangled blue,

Glanced merriment; and from large arms
To well-turned ankles all your charms
Blew flutterings and glitterings

Of satin bands and beaded strings;.

And round each arm's fair thigh one fold,

And graceful wrists, a twisted gold
Coiled serpents' tails fixed in each head,
Convulsive-jeweled glossy red.

In flowers and trimmings, to the jar
Of mandolin and low guitar,

You in the grated patio

Danced: the curled coxcombs' flirting row

Rang pleased applause.

I saw you dance,

With wily motion and glad glance

Voluptuous, the wild romalis,

Where every movement was a kiss

Of elegance delicious, wound

In your Basque tambourine's dull sound;

Or as the ebon castanets

Clucked out dry time in unctuous jets,

Saw angry José through the grate

Glare on us a pale face of hate,
When some indecent colonel there
Presumed too lewdly for his ear.

Some still night in Seville, the street
Candilejo, two shadows meet –
Flash sabres crossed within the moon
Clash rapidly-a dead dragoon.

MADISON J. CAWEIN.