EAJXAD.

143

21 .

Aiul as these things the old Moor said,They sever’d from the trunk his head;And to the Alhambra 's wall with speed’Twas carried, as the King decreed.

Woe is me, Albania !

22 .

And men and infants therein weepTheir loss, so heavy and so deep;Granada ’s ladies, all she rearsWithin her walls, burst into tears.

Woe is me, Alhuma!

23 .

And from the windows o’er the wallsThe sable web of mourning falls;

The King weeps as a woman o’er 1Ill's loss, for it is much and sore.

\\ 'oe is me, Albania !