C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Author Unknown

Translation from the Spanish of John Gibson Lockhart

“RISE up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down;

Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!

From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing,

And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpets’ lordly blowing;

And banners bright from lattice light are waving everywhere,

And the tall, tall plume of our cousin’s bridegroom floats proudly in the air:

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down;

Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!

“Arise, arise, Xarifa! I see Andalla’s face;

He bends him to the people with a calm and princely grace:

Through all the land of Xeres and banks of Guadalquivir

Rode forth bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely, never.

Yon tall plume waving o’er his brow, of purple mixed with white,

I guess ’twas wreathed by Zara, whom he will wed to-night.

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down;

Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town!

“What aileth thee, Xarifa? what makes thine eyes look down?

Why stay ye from the window far, nor gaze with all the town?

I’ve heard you say on many a day—and sure you said the truth—

Andalla rides without a peer ’mong all Granada’s youth;

Without a peer he rideth, and yon milk-white horse doth go,

Beneath his stately master, with a stately step and slow.

Then rise—oh rise, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down:

Unseen here through the lattice, you may gaze with all the town!”

The Zegri lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down,

Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the town;

But though her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers strove,

And though her needle pressed the silk, no flower Xarifa wove:

One bonny rosebud she had traced before the noise drew nigh,—

That bonny bud a tear effaced, slow dropping from her eye.

“No—no,” she sighs: “bid me not rise, nor lay my cushion down,

To gaze upon Andalla with all the gazing town!”—

“Why rise ye not, Xarifa, nor lay your cushion down?

Why gaze ye not, Xarifa, with all the gazing town?

Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells, and how the people cry!

He stops at Zara’s palace-gate;—why sit ye still—oh why?”—

“At Zara’s gate stops Zara’s mate: in him shall I discover

The dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and was my lover?

I will not rise, with weary eyes, nor lay my cushion down,

To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing town!”