Zaide

My city, my lovely city,

Is Granada with its cool garden.

Aladdin's palace is there,

The equal of Cordova and Seville.

All her balconies are open,

All her fountains' basins clear;

All the sultans' court

Is held beneath the green myrtles.

Thus near to Zoraide,

Letting her voice run free,

Sang the young Zaide,

Her feet in golden sandals.

The queen said to her, "My girl,

Where do you come from?" I know not.

"Have you then no family?"

Your love is all my happiness.

Oh my queen, for father I have

This sun full of sweetness;

The sierra is my mother,

And my sisters are the stars.

But then upon the hill

Zaide wept to the night:

"Ah! I am just an orphan,

Who will care for me?"

A knight saw the pretty girl,

Took her upon his golden saddle.

Granada, alas, is far from her,

But Zaide still dreams of it.