hills; the graceful dance of the Zambra is no more
seen beneath thy bowers. Beautiful Granada! why is
the Alhambra so forlorn and desolate? The orange
and myrtle still breathe their perfumes into its silken
chambers; the nightingale still sings within its
groves; its marble halls are still refreshed with the
plash of fountains and the gush of limpid rills! Alas!
the countenance of the king no longer shines within
those halls. The light of the Alhambra is set for
ever!"

Boabdil, indeed, had been made prisoner and was
now a captive on his way to Cordova, while Ferdinand
ravaged the Vega, and old Muley Abu-l-Hasan, who
now returned to his kingdom, ground his teeth in
impotent rage behind his stout ramparts.

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