Classic Poem

'T was in a conquered town — we warred in Spain;
I was a gay lieutenant, rash and young,
Loving to lisp the Andalusian tongue
With jet-eyed charmers who to list would deign.

Oft by old Alcazars, with mandolin strung,
I would not warble long my amorous strain,
And, for my blue eyes' sake, one beauty hung
Over her balcon's gloom a silken skein.

Deluded boy, with fatuous pride elate,
I could not deem her love to danger led;
Yet in that Spanish heart a world of hate
For me in each soft kiss more surely spread
And I was found one night beside her gate,
Her poniard in my throat and left for dead!