The mountain where he stood was famous ground,
For there the Caliph's crescent had been riven;
And still the Arab breathes a prayer profound
For the Alhambra's halls, his earthly heaven.
Sebastian rested on the low, red wall
That girds the palace, like the shatter'd pall
Flung round the bed of beauty's last decay.
His eyes upon th' enchanted landscape lay.
A voice, a whisper, trembled by his side,
Faded upon the breathless air, and died!
The sound return'd, and he stood listening
To tones that, mingling with a faint guitar,
Now floated round him, and now faded far,
As if a spirit shook them from its wing.