Читать книгу The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 367, April 25, 1829 - Various - Страница 4

Oh, go not yet, my lord, my love, lie down by Zenia's side,

And think not for thy white men friends, to leave thy Indian bride,

For she will steer thy light canoe across Ozuma's lake,

To where the fragrant citron groves perfume the banyan brake;

And wouldst thou chase the nimble deer, or dark-eyed antelope,

She'll lend thee to their woody haunts, behind the mountain's slope,

And when thy hunter task is done, and spent thy spirit's force,

She'll weave for thee a plantain bower, beside a streamlet's course,

Where the sweet music of the leaves shall lull thee to repose.

Hence in Zenia's watchful love, from harmful beast, or foes,

And when the spirit of the storm, in wild tornades rides by,

She'll hide thee in a cave, beneath a rocky panoply.

Look, Zenia look, the fleecy clouds move on the western gales,

And see the white men's moving home, unfurls her swelling sails,

So farewell India's spicy groves, farewell its burning clime,

And farewell Zenia, but to love, no farewell can be mine;

Not for the brightest Spanish maid, shall Diez' vow be riven,

So if we meet no more on earth, I will be thine in heaven.

Oh, go not yet, my godlike love, stay but a moment more

And Zenia's step shall lead thee on, to Hayna's golden shore,

No white man's foot has ever trod, the vale that slumbers there,

Or forced the gold bird from its nest, or Gato from his lair;

But cradled round by giant hills, lies many a golden mine,

And all the treasure they contain, shall be my Diez thine,

And all my tribe will be thy friends, our warrior chief thy guard,

With Zenia's breast thy faithful shield, thy love her sweet reward.

The valley's won, the friends are true, revealed the golden tide.

And Diez for Hispania's shore, quits not his Indian bride.