Leila | Page 3

round shield, the light javelin,
and the curving cimiter, of Moorish warfare. So studded were these
arms with jewels of rare cost, that they might alone have sufficed to
indicate the rank of the evident owner, even if his own gorgeous
vestments had not betrayed it. An open manuscript, on a silver table,
lay unread before the Moor: as, leaning his face upon his hand, he
looked with abstracted eyes along the mountain summits dimly
distinguished from the cloudless and far horizon.
No one could have gazed without a vague emotion of interest, mixed
with melancholy, upon the countenance of the inmate of that luxurious
chamber.
Its beauty was singularly stamped with a grave and stately sadness,
which was made still more impressive by its air of youth and the
unwonted fairness of the complexion: unlike the attributes of the
Moorish race, the hair and curling beard were of a deep golden colour;
and on the broad forehead and in the large eyes, was that settled and
contemplative mildness which rarely softens the swart lineaments of
the fiery children of the sun. Such was the personal appearance of
Boabdil el Chico, the last of the Moorish dynasty in Spain.
"These scrolls of Arabian learning," said Boabdil to himself, "what do
they teach? to despise wealth and power, to hold the heart to be the true
empire. This, then, is wisdom. Yet, if I follow these maxims, am I wise?
alas! the whole world would call me a driveller and a madman. Thus is
it ever; the wisdom of the Intellect fills us with precepts which it is the
wisdom of Action to despise. O Holy Prophet! what fools men would
be, if their knavery did not eclipse their folly!"
The young king listlessly threw himself back on his cushions as he
uttered these words, too philosophical for a king whose crown sate so

loosely on his brow.
After a few moments of thought that appeared to dissatisfy and disquiet
him, Boabdil again turned impatiently round "My soul wants the bath
of music," said he; "these journeys into a pathless realm have wearied it,
and the streams of sound supple and relax the travailed pilgrim."
He clapped his hands, and from one of the arcades a boy, hitherto
invisible, started into sight; at a slight and scarce perceptible sign from
the king the boy again vanished, and in a few moments afterwards,
glancing through the fairy pillars, and by the glittering waterfalls, came
the small and twinkling feet of the maids of Araby. As, with their
transparent tunics and white arms, they gleamed, without an echo,
through that cool and voluptuous chamber, they might well have
seemed the Peris of the eastern magic, summoned to beguile the sated
leisure of a youthful Solomon. With them came a maiden of more
exquisite beauty, though smaller stature, than the rest, bearing the light
Moorish lute; and a faint and languid smile broke over the beautiful
face of Boabdil, as his eyes rested upon her graceful form and the dark
yet glowing lustre of her oriental countenance. She alone approached
the king, timidly kissed his hand, and then, joining her comrades,
commenced the following song, to the air and very words of which the
feet of the dancing-girls kept time, while with the chorus rang the silver
bells of the musical instrument which each of the dancers carried.
AMINE'S SONG.
I. Softly, oh, softly glide, Gentle Music, thou silver tide, Bearing, the
lulled air along, This leaf from the Rose of Song! To its port in his soul
let it float, The frail, but the fragrant boat, Bear it, soft Air, along!
II. With the burthen of sound we are laden, Like the bells on the trees
of Aden,* When they thrill with a tinkling tone At the Wind from the
Holy Throne, Hark, as we move around, We shake off the buds of
sound; Thy presence, Beloved, is Aden.
III. Sweet chime that I hear and wake I would, for my lov'd one's sake,
That I were a sound like thee, To the depths of his heart to flee. If my

breath had his senses blest; If my voice in his heart could rest; What
pleasure to die like thee!
*[The Mohammedans believe that musical bells hang on the trees of
Paradise, and are put in motion by a wind from the throne of God.]
The music ceased; the dancers remained motionless in their graceful
postures, as if arrested into statues of alabaster; and the young
songstress cast herself on a cushion at the feet of the monarch, and
looked up fondly, but silently, into his yet melancholy eyes,--when a
man, whose entrance had not been noticed, was seen to stand within the
chamber.
He was about the middle stature,--lean, muscular, and strongly though
sparely