The Alcayde Of Molina. - From The Spanish. (translations.) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AAAABBAACDAAAAEEFFGH IIAAAAJJKKLLMM| To the town of Atienza Molina's brave Alcayde | A |
| The courteous and the valorous led forth his bold brigade | A |
| The Moor came back in triumph he came without a wound | A |
| With many a Christian standard and Christian captive bound | A |
| He passed the city portals with swelling heart and vein | B |
| And towards his lady's dwelling he rode with slackened rein | B |
| Two circuits on his charger he took and at the third | A |
| From the door of her balcony Zelinda's voice was heard | A |
| Now if thou wert not shameless said the lady to the Moor | C |
| Thou wouldst neither pass my dwelling nor stop before my door | D |
| Alas for poor Zelinda and for her wayward mood | A |
| That one in love with peace should have loved a man of blood | A |
| Since not that thou wert noble I chose thee for my knight | A |
| But that thy sword was dreaded in tournay and in fight | A |
| Ah thoughtless and unhappy that I should fail to see | E |
| How ill the stubborn flint and the yielding wax agree | E |
| Boast not thy love for me while the shrieking of the fife | F |
| Can change thy mood of mildness to fury and to strife | F |
| Say not my voice is magic thy pleasure is to hear | G |
| The bursting of the carbine and shivering of the spear | H |
| Well follow thou thy choice to the battle field away | I |
| To thy triumphs and thy trophies since I am less than they | I |
| Thrust thy arm into thy buckler gird on thy crooked brand | A |
| And call upon thy trusty squire to bring thy spears in hand | A |
| Lead forth thy band to skirmish by mountain and by mead | A |
| On thy dappled Moorish barb or thy fleeter border steed | A |
| Go waste the Christian hamlets and sweep away their flocks | J |
| From Almazan's broad meadows to Sigu nza's rocks | J |
| Leave Zelinda altogether whom thou leavest oft and long | K |
| And in the life thou lovest forget whom thou dost wrong | K |
| These eyes shall not recall thee though they meet no more thine own | L |
| Though they weep that thou art absent and that I am all alone | L |
| She ceased and turning from him her flushed and angry cheek | M |
| Shut the door of her balcony before the Moor could speak | M |
William Cullen Bryant
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about The Alcayde Of Molina. - From The Spanish. (translations.) poem by William Cullen Bryant
Best Poems of William Cullen Bryant