Celinda court’sied to the ground,
    Such favor was not slight,
  Her kindly greeting gratified
    The fond hopes of the knight. 
  And glad and gloomy, each in turn,
    For such a quick success,
  He checked a thousand words of love,
    That might his joy express. 
  And following her with eager eyes—­
    “I owe thee much,” said he,
  “Who dost reward with such a boon
    My merest courtesy. 
  That favor, tho’ unmerited,
    Sweet lady, shall remain
  Counted among those choicest gifts
    Our reckoning cannot gain. 
  Its memory shall suffice to chase
    The grinding pangs of care;
  And softening turn the ills of life
    To glory’s guerdon rare.” 
  On this Celinda took her leave,
    And vanished from his view,
  And, thinking proudly of her smile,
    Azarco straight withdrew.

GAZUL’S DESPONDENCY

  Scarce half a league from Gelva the knight dismounted stood,
  Leaning upon his upright spear, and bitter was his mood. 
  He thought upon Celinda’s curse, and Zaida’s fickle mind,
  “Ah, Fortune, thou to me,” he cried, “hast ever proved unkind.” 
  And from his valiant bosom burst a storm of angry sighs,
  And acts and words of anguish before his memory rise. 
  “Celinda’s loss I count as naught, nor fear her wicked will;
  I were a fool, thus cursed by her, to love the lady still.” 
  In rage from out the sod he drew his spear-head, as he spoke,
  And in three pieces shivered it against a knotted oak. 
  He tore away the housings that ’neath his saddle hang,
  He rent his lady’s favor as with a lion’s fang—­
  The silken ribbon, bright with gold, which in his crest he bore,
  By loved Celinda knotted there, now loved by him no more. 
  He drew, as rage to madness turned, her portrait from his
  breast;
  He spat on it, and to that face derisive jeers addressed. 
  “Why should I dress in robes of joy, whose heart is wounded
  sore,
  By curses, that requite so ill the duteous love I bore? 
  Stripped as I am of every hope, ’tis better I go bare,
  For the black mantle of my soul is but tormenting care;
  I vengeance take on yonder oak, pierced by my lance’s steel—­
  I dote, for, ah! the trees I wound, cannot, like women, feel.” 
  He took the bridle off his steed, “Roam as thou wilt,” said he. 
  “As I gave Zaida her release, I give release to thee.” 
  The swift horse galloped out of sight; in melancholy mood,
  The knight, unhorsed and helmetless, his lonely path pursued.

GAZUL IN LOVE

  Not greater share did Mars acquire of trophies and renown,
  Than great Gazul took with him from Gelva’s castled town;
  And when he to Sanlucar came his lady welcomed him,
  His cup of happiness at last was beaded to the brim. 
  Alone the joyful lovers stood within a