Fatima And Raduan. - From The Spanish. (translations.) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCAADD EEFFGGDD HHIIJKDD KKLLMMDDDiamante falso y fingido Engastado en pedernal c | A |
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False diamond set in flint the caverns of the mine | B |
Are warmer than the breast that holds that faithless heart of thine | B |
Thou art fickle as the sea thou art wandering as the wind | C |
And the restless ever mounting flame is not more hard to bind | C |
If the tears I shed were tongues yet all too few would be | A |
To tell of all the treachery that thou hast shown to me | A |
Oh I could chide thee sharply but every maiden knows | D |
That she who chides her lover forgives him ere he goes | D |
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Thou hast called me oft the flower of all Grenada's maids | E |
Thou hast said that by the side of me the first and fairest fades | E |
And they thought thy heart was mine and it seemed to every one | F |
That what thou didst to win my love from love of me was done | F |
Alas if they but knew thee as mine it is to know | G |
They well might see another mark to which thine arrows go | G |
But thou giv'st me little heed for I speak to one who knows | D |
That she who chides her lover forgives him ere he goes | D |
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It wearies me mine enemy that I must weep and bear | H |
What fills thy heart with triumph and fills my own with care | H |
Thou art leagued with those that hate me and ah thou know'st I feel | I |
That cruel words as surely kill as sharpest blades of steel | I |
'Twas the doubt that thou wert false that wrung my heart with pain | J |
But now I know thy perfidy I shall be well again | K |
I would proclaim thee as thou art but every maiden knows | D |
That she who chides her lover forgives him ere he goes | D |
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Thus Fatima complained to the valiant Raduan | K |
Where underneath the myrtles Alhambra's fountains ran | K |
The Moor was inly moved and blameless as he was | L |
He took her white hand in his own and pleaded thus his cause | L |
Oh lady dry those star like eyes their dimness does me wrong | M |
If my heart be made of flint at least 'twill keep thy image long | M |
Thou hast uttered cruel words but I grieve the less for those | D |
Since she who chides her lover forgives him ere he goes | D |
William Cullen Bryant
(1)
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