Oh justice what wanteth ye of me?
You lead us on, 'though to a tyranny,
Oh freedom, where art thou now? Today?
Far from respect for mankind -you lead us astray!
Be careful lest thy freedom cost thee an eye,
And to good company bid thee then goodbye,
Across the dusty Sierra went he with a sigh,
Oh Granada! Thy valley! Thy Gypsies' solemn cry!
And ye, oh modest man, think thee not,
That amongst them thy homeland couldst be forgot,
Ring out across Sacromonte's tierra classical strings,
An aching heart to he didst they bring!
'Twas here that those primitive hounds wouldst howl,
And follow their masters, but to strangers growl,
Underground liv'd they in a place unknown,
With a haphazard melody seem'd they entomb'd.
And across the valley -aye, the other side,
How high rose the Alambra! Didst aught but hide,
Through thick green glades stood thee out,
Enchanted palace! Boabdil! Lament and shout!
A wondrous place of that no doubt,
But where are they who brought it about?
Cast out like lepers, intolerance sent 'em,
From thinking fine thoughts 'twas a prevention.
Oh Hispania! What wouldst thou do in thy Golden Age?
But feed the rabble crumbs? History turn'd a page,
Free flowing waters Al-Andalus had preserv'd,
What the Inquisition set to burn undeserv'd!