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SURRENDER OF GRANADA

BULWER LYTTON

SIR EDWARD GEORGE Bulwer LYTTON (1803–1873) was a British novelist and poet. He wrote many novels, among the most popular of which is the "Last Days of Pompeii" (see page 276). This selection is from "Leila."

NOTE. When Spain was overrun by the Saracens, early in the eighth 5 century, the Christians took refuge in the mountains and founded a new kingdom. For hundreds of years an incessant warfare went on between them and the Mohammedans, until in the year 1492 Ferdinand and Isabella brought a long siege to a successful termination, and the power of the Saracens in Spain was ended. Compare this account with the 10 selection from Prescott, page 332.

Day dawned upon Granada. The populace had sought their homes, and a profound quiet wrapped the streets, save where, from the fires committed in the late tumult, was yet heard the crash of roofs, or the crackle of the 15 light and fragrant timber employed in those pavilions of the summer. Day dawned, and the beams of the winter sun, smiling away the clouds of the past night, played cheerily on the murmuring waves of the Xenil and the Darro.

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Alone, upon a balcony commanding that stately landscape, stood the last of the Moorish kings. He had sought to bring to his aid all the lessons of the philosophy he had cultivated. "What are we," thought the musing prince, "that we should fill the world with ourselves - we kings! 25

Earth resounds with the crash of my falling throne: on the ear of races unborn the echo will live prolonged. But what have I lost?-nothing that was necessary to my happiness, my repose; nothing save the source of all my 5 wretchedness! Shall I less enjoy heaven and earth, or thought or action, or man's more material luxuries of food and sleep, the common and the cheap desires of all? Arouse thee, then, O heart within me! many and deep emotions of sorrow and of joy are yet left to break the 10 monotony of existence."

He paused; and, at the distance, his eye fell upon the lonely minarets of the distant and deserted palace. He turned away, and his cheek suddenly grew pale, for he heard in the courts below the tread of hoofs, the bustle 15 of preparation: it was the hour for his departure. His philosophy vanished: he groaned aloud, and reëntered his chamber just as his vizier and the chief of his guard broke upon his solitude.

The old vizier attempted to speak, but his voice failed 20 him. "It is time, then, to depart," said Boabdil with calmness; "let it be so: render up the palace and the fortress, and join thy friend, no more thy monarch, in his new home."

He stayed not for reply: he hurried on, descended to 25 the court, flung himself upon his barb, and, with a small

and saddened train, passed through the gate which we yet survey, by a blackened and crumbling tower, overgrown

with vines and ivy; thence, amidst gardens, now appertaining to the convent of the victor faith, he took his mournful and unwitnessed way. When he came to the middle of the hill that rises above those gardens, the steel of the Spanish armor gleamed upon him, as the detach- 5 ment sent to occupy the palace marched over the summit in steady order and profound silence.

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Boabdil rode on, without looking to the right or left. The Spaniards also pursued their way. The sun had fairly risen above the mountains when Boabdil and his train 10 beheld, from the eminence on which they were, the whole armament of Spain; and at the same moment, louder than the tramp of horse or the clash of arms, was heard distinctly the solemn chant of the Te Deum, which

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preceded the blaze of the unfurled and lofty standards. Boabdil, himself still silent, heard the groans and exclamations of his train; he turned to cheer or chide them, and then saw, on his own watchtower, with the sun shining full upon its pure and dazzling surface, the silver cross of Spain. His Alhambra was already in the hands of the foe.

At that sight the king's voice died within him: he gave the rein to his barb, impatient to close the fatal ceremonial, and did not slacken his speed till almost within bowshot 10 of the first ranks of the army. Never had Christian war assumed a more splendid and imposing aspect. Far as the eye could reach extended the glittering and gorgeous lines of that goodly power, bristling with sunlit spears and blazoned banners; while beside, murmured and glowed and 15 danced the silver and laughing Xenil, careless what lord should possess, for his little day, the banks that bloomed by its everlasting course.

By a small mosque halted the flower of the army. Surrounded by the archpriests of that mighty hierarchy, the 20 peers and princes of a court that rivaled the Rolands of Charlemagne, was seen the kingly form of Ferdinand himself, with Isabel at his right hand, and the high-born dames of Spain; relieving, with their gay colors and sparkling gems, the sterner splendor of the crested helmet 25 and polished mail.

Within sight of the royal group Boabdil halted, composed his aspect so as best to conceal his soul, and, a

little in advance of his scanty train, but never in mien and majesty more a king, the son of Abdallah met his haughty conqueror. At the sight of his princely countenance and golden hair, his comely and commanding beauty, made more touching by youth, a thrill of compassionate admi- 5 ration ran through that assembly of the brave and fair. Ferdinand and Isabel slowly advanced to meet their late rival, — their new subject; and, as Boabdil would have dismounted, the Spanish king placed his hand upon his shoulder. "Brother and prince," said he, "forget thy 10 sorrows; and may our friendship hereafter console thee for reverses against which thou hast contended as a hero and a king, resisting man, but resigned at length to God!"

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Boabdil did not affect to return this bitter but uninten- 15 tional mockery of compliment. He bowed his head and remained a moment silent; then, motioning to his train, four of his officers approached, and kneeling beside Ferdinand, proffered to him, upon a silver buckler, the keys of the city. "O king," then said Boabdil, "accept the keys 20 of the last hold which has resisted the arms of Spain! The empire of the Moslem is no more. Thine are the city and the people of Granada: yielding to thy prowess, they yet confide in thy mercy.'

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They do well," said the king; "our promises shall not 25 be broken. But, since we know the gallantry of Moorish cavaliers, not to us, but to gentler hands, shall the keys of

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