Iberia Won 37

Iberia Won 37

Fair as the Morn and blooming as the rose,

Graceful as lily waves its slender stem,

Sweet as the breeze that o’er the violet blows,

Pure as the light of Sheba’s diadem!

Soft was her eye, yet sparkled as a gem,

Large, black, and lustrous. Gentle, loved by all--

The poor devoted kist her garment’s hem;

The rich admired, nor Envy’s shafts could fall

On one so angel-good, of form majestical.

 

 

III.

 

As shines the Moon so Isidora shone

’Mid circling maze of many a bright compeer;

Or like the Star that heralds in the dawn,

Dimming the lustre of each splendour near.

Her glance could like Heaven’s dewiest sunbeam cheer,

Her smile was music and her step a song,

Her voice as Ariel’s flute was soft and clear.

A glory streamed around her, giant-strong,

As robed in Beauty’s pride she queenly walked along.

 

 

IV.

 

A sister by her side as graceful grew

In opening Woman’s sweetness. Isabel

Seemed as a rosebud gathering ere it blew

All forms of Beauty that divinely fell

From full-blown flower that on the spray so well

Beside her bloomed. ’Neath Isidora’s pure

Example as a mother’s she doth dwell.

Her step was faëry light, her laugh would lure

The coldest heart, her eye more dark with glances Moor.

 

 

V.

 

And Isidora loved a noble youth,

Worthy of _her_--I ween that few be they;

And honour, valour, virtue, manhood, truth,

Combined in Carlos--noble every way.

No step more free than his--none sang the lay

Of Vascongada bold with richer voice.

His, his the sword that, flashing midst the fray,

Had Blanca saved, whose foster-sister’s choice

Gladdened her sire and made the general heart rejoice.

 

 

VI.

 

Oh Love, oh wedded Love, of life the balm,

Deep-anchored safety, haven sure of bliss.

No passion-storms disturb thy blessed calm,

No perfect joy hath Earth to show but this!

Thine for true hearts the chaste yet rapturous kiss,

Thine deathless sympathy through Life’s brief span,

Through cloud and sunshine--thine, when serpents hiss,

The dove’s pure breast. Self mars e’en Friendship’s plan;

And _thou_ the sole true friend and confident of Man!

 

 

VII.

 

Yet long in secret nourished was the flame,

Ere either had declared it--ere ’twas known,

Save by themselves, to aught that bore their name.

The rapturous joy more rapture gave alone.

From eye to eye had Love in glances flown,

In whispered cadence dew delicious shed.

A stolen pressure of the hand, a tone

Unheard save by one ear, a language dead

To all save lovers--strains like this their passion fed:--

 

 

Song of the Balcony.

 

1.

 

Upraise thy dark mantilla’s edge,

And shrink not like a fawn away;

But near the balconcillo’s ledge

Move for Sant’ Anna’s love, I pray;

And bend, oh, bend those glorious eyes

Upon thy slave once more, once more;

For streams no star from yon blue skies

I would as soon adore!

 

 

2.

 

Encantadora! All is hushed;

In deep repose our kinsmen sleep;

Tears from these streaming lids have gushed,

In rapture that your tryst you keep.

Ah! must I never throb more nigh

Than at our casements’ sundered height,

Nor steal this distant glimpse of joy

But in the depth of night!

 

 

3.

 

_Pordiez!_ I would I were a bird,

To glide on air beside thy charms,

To press thy lip at every word,

To fold thee in my longing arms!

Oh, yes, by yon star-spangled, soft,

Unutterable depth of blue,

I swear, as I have murmured oft,

To live and die for you!

 

 

4.

 

Within thy balcon’s dusky sphere

Thou gleamest like an orient pearl;

At times I doubt what form is near,

An angel or my angel girl!

Put coyly forth thy beauteous head,

Lest stars grow dim, and Dian pale;

Nor let thy voice its music shed;

To wake they could not fail!

 

 

5.

 

Upraise thy dark mantilla’s edge,

And shrink not like a fawn away;

But near the balconcillo’s ledge

Move for Sant’ Anna’s love, I pray.

And bend, oh bend, those glorious eyes

Upon thy slave once more, once more;

For streams no star from yon blue skies

I would as soon adore!

 

 

VIII.

 

Yet sighs one more for Isidora’s charms;

Love’s treasure seldom without Envy shines.

And even when Carlos clasps her in his arms

In visioned bliss, another secret pines.

Fate scowling terrible his bulwark mines,

And comes the blow from evilest-omened hand.

Nor Carlos nor his rival yet divines

Their mutual secret. Blindfold thus they stand,

Till Hate in anguished hour whirls high his flaming brand.

 

 

IX.

 

’Twas starry midnight lone, when Carlos soft

’Neath Isidora’s open lattice stole,

And gently touching his guitar, as oft,

In strains melodious poured his melting soul.

Even when his deepest cadenced transports roll,

An iron hand his shoulder seized--another

Held high the gleaming dagger, to its goal

Next instant plunged it. Blood the voice doth smother

Of Carlos--he looks up--and sees, oh God, a brother!

 

 

X.

 

’Twas Jealousy--the scourge of Southern breasts--

Made an unconscious Cain--for deep and true

Fraternal love their bosoms both invests,

And maniac-like the assassin instant grew,

And tore his hair--and raved--then gibbering flew,

Like Clytemnestra’s son by Furies driven.

Long Carlos crimson lay and dead to view;

With morning’s breath a glimpse of life was given,

And faint his cry was raised for bounteous aid to Heaven.

 

 

XI.

 

What cry too faint to reach the ear of love?

Through Isidora’s casement pierced his moan,

When Morn’s first beam Pyrene rose above,

And roused her faithful heart with plaintive tone.

Another cry--to the casement she hath flown.

Oh, sight of agony--her lover lies

Blood-boltered at her feet! With groan on groan

His breast Apollo-like doth heave and rise,

And ghastly pale his cheek, and glaring white his eyes.