024 The Birth of Cervantes. [DEC, 



He caught her slender hand made speeches- 

 Nay, e'en for once the poets quoted 



Forgotten since he first wore breeches ; 

 In short, he fairly proved he (looted. 



Sweet Zara first rebuffed his passion 



Laughed, frowned, grew angry, smiled, coquetted, 



(Such is, since Mother Eve, the fashion), 

 Until the Don was fairly netted. 



The settlements at length were settled ; 



The bridesmaids were with clothes provided ; 

 The lover came, high dressed, high mettled; 



The fair stood blushing to be brided. 

 Her caftan was as white as milk, 



Made by a milliner from town 

 Lovely and long the tresses silk, 



In ringlets on her cheek flowed down. 



The cheek was like the glowing grape, 



The neck was like a statue moulded; 

 And round the bosom's lovely shape 



Lay gems in gold and silver folded. 

 Rodriguez led her to the altar, 



The sweet perfection of the toilet : 

 But here my pen begins to falter 



The pen of Homer's stlf would spoil it. 



What man could paint the pretty creature 



The smiles, the sighs, the charming shyness ! 

 (The women have it all by Nature, 



From Joan the milkmaid to her Highness). 

 But into chapel bounced a villain, 



As black as any in Algiers ; 

 His language shewed him no civilian 



It shocked the Christian people's ears. 



He swore that Zara was his minion ; 



In fact, the Moor began to swagger : 

 The Don quite differed in opinion 



Whereon the Moor pulled out his dagger. 

 Rodriguez drew his famed toledo, 



Three yards, with several more to spare : 

 One slash foreclosed the Moor's bravado ; 



The head flew off' to Heaven knows where ! 



This comes of hurting people's feelings ! 



The man who thinks of stopping banns, 

 May make up his account for whealings 



From woman's hands, if not from man's. 

 Some saw the head go through the attics, 



Some saw it vanish through the wall ; 

 Some, by the help of mathematics, 



Swore that 'twas never there at all. 



The Moor was earthed that is, the trunk 



The head, from January to June, 

 None knew if 'twas in ocean sunk, 



Or turned to green cheese in the moon. 

 At last the head too would be buried 



(A Pope himself the fact averred) ; 

 And every night the lovers flurried, 

 . Insisting it should be interred. 



