"If better seem thy castles there
⁠Than here our gardens shine,
And thy flowers are more beautiful,
⁠Because in Leon thine;

"And thou hast given thy youthful love
⁠One of thy warriors there,
Houri of Eden! weep no more,
⁠But to thy knights repair!"

Then giving her his chosen steed,
⁠And half his lordly train,
The Moorish chieftain turn'd him back
⁠In silence home again.

No sound is in the midnight air,
⁠No colour in its shade,
The old are resting free from care,
⁠Duenna's voice is stay'd;
But when all else in slumber meet,
⁠We two are waking nigh,
She on the grated window's seat,
⁠And at its foot am I.