Moorish Gathering-Song

Chains on the cities! gloom in the air!
Come to the hills! fresh breezes are there.
Silence and fear in the rich orange bowers!
Come to the rocks where freedom hath towers.

Come from the Darro!--changed is its tone;
Come where the streams no bondage have known;
Wildly and proudly foaming they leap,
Singing of freedom from steep to steep.

Come from Alhambra!--garden and grove
Now may not shelter beauty or love.
Blood on the waters! death midst the flowers!
--Only the spear and the rock are ours.