In the evening-shaded garden
Rambles the Alcalde’s daughter;
Kettle-drums and trumpets loudly
Echo from the lofty castle.
“Wearisome I find the dances,
“And the honied words of flatt’ry,
“And the knights, who so gallantly
“Tell me I the sun resemble.
“Everything is hateful to me
“Since I by the beaming moonlight
“Saw the Knight whose lute allured me
“To the window every evening.
“As he stood, so slim, but daring,
“And his eyes shot lightning glances
“From his pale and noble features,
“Truly he Saint George resembled.”
In this manner Donna Clara
Thought, and on the ground then looked she;
When she raised her eyes, the handsome
Unknown Knight was standing by her.
Pressing hands with loving whispers
Wander they beneath the moonlight,
And the zephyr gently woos them,
Wondrously the roses greet them.
Wondrously the roses greet them,
Like love’s messengers all glowing.—
“But, my loved one, prythee tell me
“Why so suddenly thou redden’st?”
“’Twas the flies that stung me, dearest,
“And the flies are, all the summer,
“Quite as much detested by me
“As the long-nosed Jewish fellows.”
“Never mind the flies and Jews, dear,”
Said the Knight, with fond caresses.
From the almond-trees are falling
Thousand white and fleecy blossoms.
Thousand white and fleecy blossoms
Their sweet fragrance shed around them.
“But, my loved one, prythee tell me
“Is thy heart devoted to me?”
“Yes, I truly love thee, dearest,
“And I swear it by the Saviour
“Whom the God-detested Jews erst
“Wickedly and vilely murder’d.”
“Never mind the Jews and Saviour,”
Said the Knight, with fond caresses.
In the distance snow-white lilies
Dreamily, light-bathed, are bending.
Bathed in light the snow-white lilies
Gaze upon the stars above them:
“But, my loved one, prythee tell me
“Hast thou not a false oath taken?”
“Falsehood is not in me, dearest,
“Since within my breast there flows not
“E’en one single drop of Moor’s blood,
“Or of dirty Jew’s blood either.”
“Never mind the Moors and Jews, dear,”
Said the Knight, with fond caresses;
And he to a myrtle bower
Leads the fair Alcalde’s daughter.
With the nets of love so tender,
He hath secretly enclosed her!
Short their words and long their kisses,
And their hearts are overflowing.
Like a wedding-song all-melting
Sings the nightingale, the dear one;
Glowworms on the ground are moving,
As if in the torch-dance circling.
Silence reigns within the bower,
Nought is heard except the stealthy
Whispers of the cunning myrtles,
And the breathing of the flowerets.
But soon kettle-drums and trumpets
Echo from the lofty castle,
And, awakening, Clara quickly
From the Knight’s arm frees her person.
“Hark, they’re calling me, my dearest,
Yet before we part, thou need’st must
Thy dear name to me discover
Which thou hast so long concealèd.”
And the Knight, with radiant smiling,
Kiss’d the fingers of his Donna,
Kiss’d her lips and kiss’d her forehead,
And at last these words he uttered:
“I, Señora, I, your loved one,
Am the son of the much honour’d
Great and learned scribe, the Rabbi
Israel of Saragossa.”