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Translated by Edward Churton
THREE Corsairs from Algier | |
| Came flying o’er the sea, | |
| As though the Wind their father were, | |
| And these his children three: | |
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| And, darting through the brine, | 5 |
| The pirates’ hunted prey, | |
| A Genoese swift brigantine | |
| Before them fled away. | |
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| A prize of noble worth | |
| That flying vessel bore, | 10 |
| Sent in our Viceroy’s convoy forth | |
| To Naples’ sunny shore. | |
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| It was a knight of Spain | |
| From Leon’s town and tower, | |
| And with him maiden daughters twain, | 15 |
| A bud, and opening flower; | |
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| From Leon’s mountain-seat, | |
| The garden where they grew;— | |
| When, parting wide the gallant fleet, | |
| The thwarting tempest blew; | 20 |
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| And worse than storm that howled | |
| From Afric’s capes afar, | |
| Morat, the renegado, prowled, | |
| Foul hawk of pirate war; | |
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| Calabrian harpy rude, | 25 |
| The rifler fierce and fell, | |
| Who fain in Spanish egret’s blood | |
| Would dye his beak and bell. | |
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| On sounding wings he flew; | |
| But, ere the chase had closed, | 30 |
| The storm with slackening gale withdrew, | |
| And Mercy interposed. | |
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| To low Denia’s bay | |
| They sailed, to port and tower, | |
| Pride of a Marquess yesterday, | 35 |
| Now graced with Ducal power. | |
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| A glance the warder cast, | |
| And spied far off from shore | |
| The crescent on the Moorish mast, | |
| The cross the Christians bore. | 40 |
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| The fort its cannon fired; | |
| Dark vapors filled the skies; | |
| The baffled Corsair warned retired, | |
| The port received his prize. | |
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| The port’s broad arms between, | 45 |
| Forespent with eager joy, | |
| The tempest-shattered brigantine | |
| Breathed free from past annoy. | |
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| The grateful Leonese | |
| With garlands wreathed his brow, | 50 |
| And glad at heart in words like these | |
| To Heaven poured forth his vow: | |
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| “O port and temple blest, | |
| Safe home from wayward sea, | |
| Which Time must whelm, ere souls distressed | 55 |
| Shall cease to fly to thee; | |
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| “Strong fort, of miscreant Moors | |
| The terror and disdain; | |
| Firm shield, and sword of royal force | |
| Right judgment to maintain; | 60 |
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| “Long live thy princely halls | |
| Their titled lord to greet; | |
| Low as the waves that bathe thy walls, | |
| May Envy kiss his feet! | |
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| “And lasting be the grace | 65 |
| He from our King hath won; | |
| For well hath merit held the place | |
| In favor first begun! | |
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| “Such service Honor gives; | |
| Then, while in Mantuan lays | 70 |
| The praise of good Achates lives, | |
| Live faithful Lerma’s praise!” | |
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