I LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. Class ^ W-fi THE SPANISH BALLADS AND THE CHRONICLE OF THE CID. THE "CHANDOS CLASSICS. 1 ' THE SPANISH BALLADS. TRANSLATED BY J. G. LOCK HART, LL.B. AND THE CHRONICLE OF THE CID. BY ROBERT SOUTHEY. LONDON AND NEW YORK: FREDERICK WARNE AND CO. Z/xz-7 PRESERVATION COPY ADDED PREFACE. LOCKHART'S translations of the Spanish Ballads appeared originally in BlackwoocVs Magazine, and were published in a separate form in 1822, from which edition this volume has been printed. It contains two or three more Ballads than the later edition. Lockhart appropriately appended some of them, the same year, to his edition of Motteux's "Don Quixote." The Publishers, in uniting with^em Southey*s fine transla- tion of the "Chronicle of the Cid," believe that they are adding to the value and interest of these charming Ballads by presenting at the same time a perfect picture of the Spanish mind at the most striking and interesting period of the national history. John Gibson Lockhart, the son of a minister of the Kirk of Scotland, was born 1794, and died 1854. He married the eldest daughter of Sir Walter Scott. From 1826 to 1853 he was the editor of the Quarterly Review. He was the author of several novels and tales," Valerius," " Reginald Dalton," &c., and of a very interesting " Life of Sir Walter Scott ;" but he will probably be best known to posterity as the translator of the Spanish Ballads, to which his genius has given the spirit and life of an original work. Southey, whose translation is here united with his, was a contemporary poet with him, though some twenty years older, 5567 S ri PREFACE. having been born in 1774. He was a voluminous writer poet, historian, essayist, and biographer, and one of the best read men of the age. He married Caroline Bowles, the poetess, as his second wife; and died, after a life of unwearied literary toil, in 1843. He was Poet Laureate, and Sir Robert Peel offered him a baronetcy, which he declined. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION * 1 HISTORICAL BALLADS. THE LAMENTATION OF DON RODERICK 17 THE PENITENCE OF DON RODERICK 20 THE MARCH OF BERNARDO DEL CARPIO 24 THE COMPLAINT OF THE COUNT OF SALDENHA ..... 27 THE FUNERAL OF THE COUNT OF SALDENHA 29 BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO 31 THE MAIDEN TRIBUTE 34 THE ESCAPE OF COUNT FERNAN GONSALEZ 37 THE SEVEN HEADS ... 41 THE VENGEANCE OF MUDARRA 47 THE WEDDING OF THE LADY THERESA 49 THE YOUNG CID 52 XIMENA DEMANDS VENGEANCE . . . . 54 THE CID AND THE FIVE MOORISH KINGS c 56 THE CID'S COURTSHIP . . . , 58 THE CID'S WEDDING 60 THE CID AND THE LEPER 62 SAVIECA . 65 THE EXCOMMUNICATION OF THE CID 67 ~7?ARCI PEREZ DE VARGAS ... 69 THE POUNDER 73 THE MURDER OF THE MASTER OF ST. IAGO 75 THE DEATH OF QUEEN BLANCHE 80 THE DEATH OF DON PEDRO 83 THE PROCLAMATION OF KING HENRY 87 THE LORD OF BUTRAGO ,...., 93 fHE KING OF ARRAGON 95 \HE VOW OF THE MOOR REDUAN 97 THE FLIGHT FROM GRANADA ...'... . 100 vffi CONTENTS. HUM THE DEATH OF DON ALONZO OF AGUILAR 102 THE DEPARTURE OF KING SEBASTIAN 106 MOORISH BALLADS. THE BULL-FIGHT OF GAZUL 108 THE ZEGRI'S BRIDE 112 THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA . . 114 ZARA'S EAR-RINGS 116 THE LAMENTATION FOR THE DEATH OF CELIN 118 ROMANTIC BALLADS. THE MOOR CALAYNOS 120 THE ESCAPE OF GAYFEROS 126 MELISENDRA 129 LADY ALDA'S DREAM 133 THE ADMIRAL GUARINOS 135 THE LADY OF THE TREE 141 THE FALSE QUEEN , . . 143 THE AVENGING CHILDE 144 COUNT ARNALDOS . 146 SONG FOR THE MORNING OF .THE DAY OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST 148 JULIANA 151 THE SONG OF THE GALLEY 152 THE WANDERING KNIGHT'S SONG 154 MINGUILLO . . 155 SERENADE , 156 MINGUELA'S CHIDING 157 THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT AND THE BLACKBIRD 160 VALLADOLID 1 62 THE ILL-MARRIED LADY 163 DRAGUT 165 COUNT ALARCOS AND THE INFANTA SOLISA 167 \\ I* * ANCIENT SPANISH BALLADS. INTRODUCTION. THE intention of this Publication is to furnish the English reader with some notion of that old Spanish minstrelsy, which has been preserved in the different Cancioneros and Romanceros of the sixteenth century. That great mass of popular poetry has never yet received in its own country the attention to which it is entitled. While hundreds of volumes have been written about authors who were, at the best, ingenious imitators of classical or Italian models, not one, of the least critical merit, has been bestowed upon those older and simpler poets who were contented with the native inspirations of Castilian pride. No Spanish Percy, or Ellis, or Ritson, has arisen to perform what no one but a Spaniard can entertain the smallest hope of achieving. Mr. Bouterwek, in his excellent History of Spanish Litera- ture, complained that no attempt had ever been made even to arrange the old Spanish ballads in anything like chronological order. An ingenious countryman of his own, Mr. Depping, has since, in some measure, supplied this defect. He has arranged the historical ballads according to the chronology of the persons and events which they celebrate for even this obvious matter had not been attended to by the original Spanish collectors but he has modestly and judiciously refrained from attempting the chronological arrangement of them as compositions ; feeling, of course, that no person can ever acquire such a delicate know- ledge of a language not his own, as might enable him to distinguish, with accuracy, between the different shades of antiquity or even perhaps to draw, with certainty and pre- cision, the broader line between that which is of genuine antiquity, and that which is mere modern imitation. By far the greater part of the following translations is from pieces which the reader may find in Mr. Depping 1 s Collection, published at Leipsig in 1817. It is therefore, in the present state of things, quite impossible B 2 INTRODUCTION. to determine to what period the composition of the oldest Spanish ballads now extant ought to be referred. The first Cancionero, that of Ferdinand de Castillo, was published so early as 1510. In it a considerable number ot the historical and of the romantic class of ballads are included; and as the title of the book itself bears " Obras de todos o de los mas principales Trobadwes de Espaiia, assi antiguos como modernos" it is clear that at least a certain number of these pieces were considered as entitled to the appellation of " ancient" in the year 1510. The Cancionero de Romances, published a' Antwerp in 1555, and afterwards often reprinted under the name of Romancero, was the earliest collection that admitted nothing but ballads. The Romancero Historiado of Lucas Rodriguez, appeared at Aicala in 1 579 : the Collection of Lorenzo de Sepulveda, at Antwerp, in 1566. The ballads of the Cid were first published in a collected form in 1615, by Escobar. But there are not wanting circumstances which would seem to establish, for many of the Spanish ballads, a claim to antiquity much higher than is to be inferred from any of these dates. In the oldest edition of the Cancionero General, for example, there are several pieces which bear the name of Don Juan Manuel. If they were composed by the celebrated author of Count Lucanor, (and it appears very unlikely that any person of less distinguished rank should have assumed that style without some addition or distinction,) we must carry them back at least as far as the year 1362, when the Prince Don Juan Manuel died. But this is not all. The ballads bearing the name of that illustrious author, are so far from appearing to be among the most ancient in the Can- cionero that even a very slight examination must be sufficient to establish exactly the reverse. The regularity and completeness of their rhymes alone are in fact quite enough to satisfy any one who is acquainted with the usual style of the redondillas, that the ballads of Don Juan Manuel are among the most modern in the whole collection.* * A single stanza of one of them will be enough : Gritando va el caballero publican do su gran mal, Vestidas ropas de luto, aforradas en sayal ; Por las montes sin camino con dolor y suspirar, Llorando a pie descalgo, jurando de no tornar, &c. Coiapare this with such a ballad as No te espantes, caballero, ni tengas tamana grima Hija soy del huen Key y de la Reyna de Castilla, &c. INTRODUCTION. 8 But indeed, whatever may be the age of the ballads now ex- tant, that the Spaniards had ballads of the same general character, and on the same subjects, at a very early period of their national history, is quite certain. In the General Chronicle of Spain, which was compiled in the thirteenth century, at the command nf Alphonso the Wise, allusions are perpetually made to the popular songs of the minstrels, or Joglares. Now, it is evident that the phraseology of compositions handed down orally from one generation to another, must have undergone, in the course of time, a great many alterations ; yet, in point of fact, the language of by far the greater part of the Historical Ballads in the Roman- cero^oos appear to carry the stamp of an antiquity quite as remote as that used by the compilers of the General Chronicle themselves. Nay, some of those very expressions from which Mr. South ey would seem to infer that the CHRONICLE OF THE Cm is a more ancient composition than the GENERAL CHRONICLE OF SPAIN, (which last was written before 1384,) are quite of common occurrence in these same ballads, which Mr. Southey considers as of compara- tively modern origin. All this, however, is a controversy in which few English readers can be expected to take much interest. And, besides, even granting that the Spanish ballads were composed but a short time before the first Cancioncros were published, it would still be certain that they form by far the oldest, as well as largest, collection of popular poetry, properly so called, that is to be found in the literature of any European nation whatever. Had there been published in London in the reign of our Henry VIII. , a vast collection of English ballads about the wars of the Plantagenets, what illustration and annotation would not that collection have received long ere now ! How the old Spaniards should have come to be so much more wealthy in this sort of possession than any of their neighbours, it is not very easy to say. They had their taste for warlike song in common with all the other members of the great Gothic family, and they had a fine climate, affording, of course, more leisure for amusement than could have been enjoyed beneath the rougher sky of the north. The flexibility of their beautiful language, and the extreme simplicity of the versification adopted in their ballads, must, no doubt, have lightened the labour, and may have consequently increased the number of their pro- fessional minstrels. To tell some well-known story of love or heroism, in stanzas of four octosyllabic lines, the second and the fourth terminating B 2 4 INTRODUCTION. in the same rhyme, or in what the musical accompaniment could make to have some appearance of being the same this was all that the art of the Spanish coplero, in its most perfect state, ever aspired to : but a line of seven or of six syllables, was admitted whenever that suited the maker better than one of eight ; the stanza itself varied from four to six lines, with equal ease ; and, as for the matter of rhyme, it was quite sufficient that the two corresponding syllables contained the same vowel* In a language less abundant in harmonious vocables, such laxity could scarcely have satisfied the ear. But the Spanish is, like the sister Italian, music in itself, though music of a bolder character. I have spoken of the structure of the redondillas, as Spanish writers generally speak of it, when I have said that the stanzas consist of four lines. But the distinguished German anti- quarian, Mr. Grimm, who has published a little sylva of Spanish ballads, expresses his opinion that the stanza was com- posed in reality of two long lines, and that these had subse- quently been cut into four, exactly as we know to have been the case in regard to our own old English ballad-stanza. Mr. Grimm, in his small, but very elegant collection, prints the Spanish verses in what he thus supposes to have been their original shape ; and I have followed his example in the form of the stanza which I have for the most part used in my transla- tions, as well as in quoting occasionally from the originals. So far as I have been able, I have followed Mr. Depping in the classification of the specimens which follow. The reader will find placed together at the beginning those ballads which treat of persons and events known in the authentic history of Spain. A few concerning the unfortunate Don Roderick, and the Moorish conquest of the eighth century, form * For example : Y arrastrando luengos lutos Entraron treynta Jidalgos Escuderos de Ximena Hija del conde Lofano. Or, A Don Alvaro de Luna Condestable de Castillo, El rey Don Juan el Segundo Con mal semblante lo mira, &c. But indeed even this might be dispensed with. INTRODUCTION. 5 the commencement; and the series is carried down, though of course with wide gaps and intervals, yet so as to furnish some- thing like a connected sketch of the gradual progress of the Christian arms, until the surrender of Granada, in the year 1492, and the consequent flight of the last Moorish Sovereign from the Peninsula. Throughout that very extensive body of historical ballads from which these specimens have been selected, there prevails an uniformly high tone of sentiment such as might have been expected to distinguish the popular poetry of a nation proud, haughty, free, and engaged in continual warfare against enemies of different faith and manners, but not less proud and not less warlike than themselves. Those petty disputes and dissensions which so long divided the Christian princes, and consequently favoured and maintained the power of the formidable enemy whom they all equally hated those struggles between prince and nobility, which were productive of similar effects after the crowns of Leon and Castile had been united those domestic tragedies which so often stained the character and weakened the arms of the Spanish kings in a word, all the principal features of the old Spanisli history may be found, more or less distinctly shadowed forth, among the productions of these faithful and un- flattering minstrels. Of the language of Spain, as it existed under the reign of the Visigoth kings, we possess no monuments. The laws and the chronicles of the period were equally written in Latin and although both, in all probability, must have been frequently rendered into more vulgar dialects, for the use of those whose business it was to understand them, no traces of any such versions have survived the many storms and struggles of religious and political dissension, of which this interesting region has since been made the scene. To what precise extent, there- fore, the language and literature of the Peninsula felt the influ- ence of that great revolution which subjected the far greater part of her territory to the sway of a Mussulman sceptre and how much or how little of what we at this hour admire or condemn in the poetry of Portugal, Arragon, Castile, is really not of Spanish but of Moorish origin these are matters which have divided all the great writers of literary history, and which we, in truth, have little chance of ever seeing accurately or completely decided. No one, however, who considers of what elements the Christian population of Spain was originally com- posed, and in what shapes the mind of nations, every way 6 INTRODUCTION. kindred to that population, was expressed during the middle ages > can have any doubt that great and remarkable influence was exerted over Spanish thought and feeling and, therefore, over Spanish language and poetry by the influx of those Oriental tribes that occupied, for seven long centuries, the fairest provinces of the Peninsula. Spain, although of all the provinces which owned the authority of the Caliphs she was the most remote from the seat of their empire, appears to have been the very first in point of cultivation ; her governors having, for at least two centuries, emulated one another in affording every species of encourage- ment and protection to all those liberal arts and sciences which first flourished at Bagdad under the sway of Haroon Al-Raschid, and his less celebrated, but, perhaps, still more enlightened son Al-Mamoun. Beneath the wise and munificent patronage of these rulers, the cities of Spain, within three hundred years after the defeat of King Eoderick, had been everywhere pene- trated with a spirit of elegance, tastefulness, and philosophy, which afforded the strongest of all possible contrasts to the con- temporary condition of the other kingdoms of Europe. At Cordova, Granada, Seville, and many now less considerable towns, colleges and libraries had been founded and endowed in the most splendid manner where the most exact and the most elegant of sciences were cultivated together with equal zeal. Averroes translated and expounded Aristotle at Cordova ; Ben- Zaid and Aboul-Mander wrote histories of their nation at Valencia ; Abdel-Maluk set the first example of that most in- teresting and useful species of writing, by which Moreri* and others have since rendered services so important to ourselves ; and even an Arabian Encyclopaedia was compiled under the direction of Mohammed-Aba-Abdallah at Granada. Ibn-el- Beither went forth from Malaga to search through all the mountains and plains of Europe for everything that might enable him to perfect his favourite sciences of botany and lithology, and his works still remain to excite the admiration of all that are in a condition to comprehend their value. The Jew of Tudela was the worthy successor of Galen and Hippo- crates : while chemistry, and other branches of medical science, * Louis Moreri, a French Priest, born 1643, published the great Historical Dictionary which bears his name, and which wae, we are here told, preceded by a similar kind of work by this learned Moor. [Editor's nute.] INTRODUCTION. 7 almost unknown to the ancients, received their first astonishing developments from Al-Rasi and Avicenna. Rhetoric and poetry were not less diligently studied ; and, in a word, it would be difficult to point out, in the whole history of the world, a time or a country where the activity of the human intellect was more extensively, or usefully, or gracefully exerted, than in Spain, while the Mussulman sceptre yet re- tained any portion of that vigour which it had originally re- ceived from the conduct and heroism of Tarifa. Although the difference of religion prevented the Moors and their Spanish subjects from ever being completely melted into one people, yet it appears that nothing could, on the whole, be more mild than the conduct of the Moorish government to- wards the Christian population of the country, during this their splendid period oi undisturbed dominion. Their learning and their arts they liberally communicated to all who desired such participation, and the Christian youth studied freely and honourably at the feet of Jewish physicians and Mahommedan philosophers. Communication of studies and acquirements, continued through such a space 01 years, could not have failed to break down, on both sides, many of the barriers of religious prejudice, and to nourish a spirit of kindliness and charity among the more cultivated portions of either people. The in- tellect of the Christian Spaniards could not be ungrateful for the rich gifts it was every day receiving from their misbelieving masters; while the benevolence with which instructors ever regard willing disciples, must have tempered in the minds of the Arabs the sentiments of haughty superiority natural to the breasts of conquerors. By degrees, however, the scattered remnants of unsubdued Visigoths, who had sought and found refuge among the moun- tains of Asturias and Gallicia, began to gather the strength of numbers and of combination, and the Mussulmans saw different portions oi their empire successively wrested from their hands by leaders whose descendants assumed the title of KINGS in Oviedo and Navarre and of COUNTS in Castile Soprarbia Arragon and Barcelona. From the time when these govern- ments were established, till all their strength was united in the persons of Ferdinand and Isabella, a perpetual war may be said to have subsisted between the professors of the two religions ; and the natural jealousy of Moorish governors must have gradually, but effectually , diminished the comfort of the Chris- tians who yet lived under their authority. Were we to seek 8 INTRODUCTION. our ideas of the period only from the events recorded in its chronicles, we should be led to believe that nothing could be more deep and fervid than the spirit of mutual hostility which prevailed among all the adherents of the opposite faiths : but external events are sometimes not the surest guides to the spirit whether of peoples or of ages, and the ancient popular poetry of Spain may be referred to for proofs, which cannot be considered as either of dubious or of trivial value, that the rage of hostility had not sunk quite so far as might have been imagined into the minds and hearts of very many that were engaged in the conflict. There is, indeed, nothing more natural, at first sight, than to reason in some measure from a nation as it is in our own day, back to what it was a few centuries ago : but nothing could tend to the production of greater mistakes than such a mode of judging applied to the case of Spain. In the erect and high- spirited peasantry of that country, we still see the genuine and uncorrupted descendants of their manly forefathers but in every other part of the population, the progress of corruption appears to have been not less powerful than rapid, and the higher we ascend in the scale of society, the more distinct and mortifying is the spectacle of moral not less than of physical deterioration. This universal falling off of men, may be traced very easily to an universal falling off in regard to every point of faith and feeling most essential to che formation and preser- vation of a national character. "We have been accustomed to consider the modern Spaniards as the most bigoted and en- slaved and ignorant of Europeans; but we must not forget, that the Spaniards of three centuries back were, in all respects, a very different set of beings. Castile, in the first regulation of her constitution, was as free as any nation needs to be, for all the purposes of social security and individual happiness. Her kings were her captains and her judges the chiefs and the models of a gallant nobility, and the protectors of a manly and independent peasantry : But the authority with which they were invested, was guarded by the most accurate limitations, nay in case they should exceed the boundary of their legal power the statute-book of the realm itself contained exact rules for the conduct of a constitutional insurrection to recal them to their duty, or to punish them for its desertion. Every order of society had, more or less directly, its representatives in the national council, and every Spaniard, of whatever degree, was penetrated with a sense of his own dignity as a freeman his INTRODUCTION. 9 own nobility as a descendant of the Visigoths. And it is well remarked by an elegant historian,* that, even to this hour, the influence of this happy order of things still continues to be felt in Spain where manners, and language, and literature, have all received indelibly a stamp of courts, and aristocracy, and proud feeling which affords a striking contrast to what may be ob- served in modern Italy, where the only freedom that ever existed had its origin and residence among citizens and mer- chants. The civil liberty of the old Spaniards could scarcely have existed so long as it did, in the presence of any feeling so black and noisome as the bigotry of modern Spain ; but this was never tried, for down to the time of Charles V. no man has any right to say that the Spaniards were a bigoted people. One of the worst features of their modern bigotry their extreme and servile subjection to the authority of the Pope, is entirely a-wanting in the picture of their ancient spirit. In the 12th century, the Kings of Arragon were the protectors of the Albi- genses; and their Pedro II. himself died in 1213, fighting bravely against the Red Cross, for the cause of tolerance. In 1268, two brothers of the King of Castile left the banners of the Infidels beneath which they were serving at Tunis, with 800 Castilian gentlemen, for the purpose of coming to Italy and as- sisting the Neapolitans in their resistance to the tyranny of the Pope and Charles of Anjou. In the great schism of the West, as it is called (1378,) Pedro IV. embraced the party which the Catholic Church regards as schismatic. That feud was not allayed for more than a hundred years, and Alphonso V. was well paid for consenting to lay it aside ; while down to the time of Charles V., the whole of the Neapolitan Princes of the House of Arragon may be said to have lived in a state of open enmity against the Papal See sometimes excommunicated for generations together seldom apparently never cordially re- conciled. When Ferdinand the Catholic finally made his first attempt to introduce the Inquisition into his kingdom, almost the whole nation took up arms to resist him. The Grand In- quisitor was killed, and every one of his creatures was compelled to leave, for a season, the yet free soil of Arragon. But the strongest and best proof of the comparative liberality of the old Spaniards is, as I have already said, to be found in Sismondi's Literature du Midi. 10 INTRODUCTION. their Ballads. Throughout the far greater part of those com* positions there breathes a certain spirit of charity and humanity towards those Moorish enemies with whom the combats of thi national heroes are represented. The Spaniards and the Moon lived together in their villages beneath the calmest of skies, and surrounded with the most beautiful of landscapes. In spite of their adverse faiths in spite of their adverse interests they had much in common. Loves, and sports, and recreations nay, sometimes their haughtiest recollections were in common, and even their heroes were the same. Bernardo del Carpio, Fernan Gonsalez, the Cid himself almost every one of the favourite heroes of the Spanish nation, had, at some period or other of his life, fought beneath the standard of the Crescent, and the minstrels of either nation might, therefore, in regard to some instances at least, have equal pride in the celebration of their prowess. The praises which the Arab poets granted to them in their Mouwachchah, or jjirdle verses, were repaid by liberal encomiums on Moorish valour and generosity in Castilian and Arragonese Redondilleras. Even in the ballads most exclusively devoted to the celebration of feats of Spanish heroism, it is quite common to find some redeeming compliment to the Moors mixed with the strain of exultation. Nay, even in the more remote and ideal chivalries celebrated in the Castilian Ballads, the parts of glory and greatness are almost as frequently attributed to Moors as to Christians; Calaynos was a name as familiar as Gayferos. At somewhat a later period, when the conquest of Granada had mingled the Spaniards still more effectually with the persons and manners of the Moors, we find the Spanish poets still fonder of celebrating the heroic achievements of their old Saracen rivals ; and, without doubt, this their liberality towards the " Knights of Granada, Gentlemen, albeit Moors," Cabal! cros Granadinos Aunque Moros hijos d'algo, must have been very gratifying to the former subjects of " The Baby King." It must have counteracted the bigotry of Con- fessors and Mollahs, and tended to inspire both nations with sentiments of kindness and mutual esteem. Bernard del Carpio, above all the rest, was the common property and pride of both people. Of his all romantic life, the most romantic incidents belonged equally to both. It was with Moors that he allied himself when he rose up to demand ven- geance from King Alphonso for the murder of his father. It INTRODUCTION. 11 was with Moorish brethren in arms that he marched to fight against the Frankish army for the independence of the Spanish soil. It was in front of a half-Leonese, half-Moorish host, that Bernard couched his lance, victorious alike over valour and magic, When Rowland brave and Olivier, And every Paladin and Peer On Roncesvalles died. A few ballads, unquestionably of Moorish origin, and apparently rather of the romantic than of the historical class, are given in a section by themselves. The originals are valuable, as monuments of the manners and customs of a most singular race. Composed originally by a Moor or a Spaniard (it is often very difficult to determine by which of the two), they were sung in the village greens of Andalusia in either language, but to the same tunes, and listened to with equal pleasure by man^ woman, and child Mussulman and Christian. In these strains, whatever other merits or demerits they may possess, we are, at least, presented with a lively picture of the life of the Arabian Spaniard. We see him as he was in reality, " like steel among weapons, like wax among women," Fuerte qual azero entre armas, Y qual cera entre las damas. There came, indeed, a time, when the fondness of the Spaniards for their Moorish Ballads was made matter of re- proach but this was not till long after the period when Spanish bravery had won back the last fragments of the Peninsula from Moorish hands. It was thus that a Spanish poet of the after day expressed himself: Vayase con Dios Gazul !* Lleve el diablo a Celindaxa ? Y buelvan estas marlotas A quien se las dift prestadas. Que quiere Dona Maria Ver baylar a Dona Juana, Una gallarda espafiola, Que no ay dan9a mas gallarda : * In the original edition this name was printed Ganzul. We have changed it to Gazul, as a needful correction. 12 INTRODUCTION. Y Don Pedro y Don Rodrigo Vestir otras mas galanas Ver quien son estos danzantes Y conocer estas damas. Y el senor Alcayde quiere Saber quien es Abenamar. Estos Zegris y Aliatares Adulces, Zaydes, y Andallas. Y de que repartimiento Son Celinda y Guadalara, Estos Moros y Estas Moras Que en todas las bod as danzan. Y por hablarlo mas claro Assi tenguan buena pascua, Ha venido a su noticia Que ay Christianos en Espafia. But these sarcasms were not without their answer; for, say another poem in the Romancero General Si es espanol Don Rodrigo Espanol fue el fuerte Andalla. Y sepa el sefior Alcayde Que tambien lo es Guadalara. -But the best argument follows : u No es culpa si de los Moros Les vali elites hechos cantan, Pues tanto mas resplendecen Neustras celebras hazafias. The greater part of the Moorish Ballads refer to the period immediately preceding the dorrnfall of the throne of Granada the amours of that splendid Court the bull-feasts and other spectacles in which its Lords and Ladies delighted no less than those of the Christian Courts of Spain the bloody feuds of the two great families of the Zegris and the Abencerrages, which contributed so largely to the ruin of the Moorish cause and the incidents of that last war itself, in which the power of the Mussulman was entirely overthrown by the arms of Ferdinand and Isabella. To some readers it may, perhaps, occur, that the part ascribed to Moorish females in these Ballads is not always exactly in the Oriental taste; but the pictures still extant on the walls of the Alhambra contain abundant proofs how unfair it INTRODUCTION. 13 would be to judge from the manners of any Mussulman nation of our day, of those of the refined and elegant Spanish Moors. As a single example of what is meant in one of those pictures, engraved in the "Arabian Antiquities of Spain," by Mr. Murphy, a Moorish Lady is represented, unveiled, bestowing the prize, after a tourney, on a kneeling Moorish Knight. The specimens of which the third and largest section consists, are taken from amongst the vast multitude of miscellaneous and romantic ballads in the old Cancioneros. The subjects of a number of these are derived from the fabulous Chronicle of Turpin ; and the Knights of Charlemagne's Round-Table appear in all their gigantic lineaments. But the greater part is formed precisely of the same sort of materials which supplied our own ancient ballad-makers, both the English and the Scottish. In the original Spanish collections, songs, both of the serious and of the comic kind, are mingled without scruple among their romantic ballads ; and one or two specimens of these also have been attempted towa'rds the conclusion of the following pages. EDINBURGH, January 3, 1823. . r -- HISTORICAL BALLADS. 17 Or THE LAMENTATION OF DON RODERICK. THE treason of Count Julian, and, indeed, the whole history of King Roderick, and the downfall of the Gothic Monarchy in Spain, have been 30 effectually made known to the English reader by Mr. Southey and Sir Walter Scott, that it would be impertinent to say anything of these matters here. The ballad, a version of which follows, appears to be one of the oldest, among the great number relating to the Moorish conquest of Spain. One verse of it is quoted, and several parodied, in the Second Part of Don Quixote, in the inimitable chapter of the Puppet-show. " ' Hold, hold, sir,' cried the puppet-player, 'hold for pity's sake ! What do you mean, sir ? These are no real Moors that you cut and hack so, but poor harmless puppets made of paste- board. Think of what you do, you ruin me for ever. Oh that ever I was born ! you have broke me quite.' But Don Quixote, without minding his words, doubled and redoubled his blows so thick, and laid about him so outrageously, that in less than two credos he had cut all the strings and wires, mangled the puppets, and spoiled and demolished the whole motion. King Marsilius was in a grievous condition. The Emperor Charlemagne's head and crown were cleft in two. The whole audience was in a sad consternation. The ape scampered ofE to the top of the house. The scholar was frightened out of his wits ; the page was very uneasy, and Sancho himself was in a terrible fright ; for, as he swore after the hurricane was over, he had never seen his master in such a rage before. "The general rout of the puppets being over, Don Quixote's fury began to abate ; and with a more pacified countenance turning to the company, ' Now.' said he, ' I could wish all those incredulous persons here who slight knight-errantry might receive conviction of their error, and behold undeniable proofs of the benefit of that function ; for how miserable had been the condition of poor Don Gayferos and the fair Melisendra by this time, had I not been here and stood up in their defence! I make no question but those infidels would have apprehended c 18 LAMENTATION OF DON RODERICK. them, and used them barbarously. Well, when all is done, long live knight-errantry ; long let it live, I say, above all things whatsoever in this world!' ' Ay, ay] said Master Peter in a doleful tone, ' let it Hue long for me, so I may die ; for why should I live so unhappy as to say with King Eoderigo, " Yesterday I was lord of Spain, to-day have not a foot of land I can call mine ?" It is not half an hour, nay scarce a moment, since I had Icings and emperors at command. I had horses in abundance, and chests and bags full of fine things ; but now you see me a poor sorry undone man, quite and clean broke and cast down, and in short a mere beggar. What is worst of ail, I have lost my ape too, who I am sure will make me sweat ere I catch him again.' " THE hosts of Don Kodrigo were scattered in dismay, When lost was the eighth battle, nor heart nor hope had they; He, when he saw that field was lost, and all his hope was flown, He turned him from his flying host, and took his way alone. ii. His horse was bleeding, blind, and lame he could no farther go ; Dismounted, without path or aim, the King stepped to and fro ; It was a sight of pity to look on Roderick, For, sore athirst and hungry, he staggered faint and sick. in. All stained and strewed with dust and blood, like to some smouldering brand Plucked from the flame Rodrigo shewed : his sword was in his hand, But it was hacked into a saw of dark and purple tint ; His jewelled mail had many a flaw, his helmet many a dint. IV. He climbed unto a hill top, the highest he could see, Thence all about of that wide route his last long look took he ; He saw his royal banners, where they lay drenched and torn, He heard the cry of victory, the Arab's shout of scorn. LAMENTATION OF DON RODERICK. 19 v. He looked for the brave captains that had led the hosts of Spain, But all were fled except the dead, and who could count the slain! Where'er his eye could wander, all bloody was the plain, And while thus he said, the tears he shed run down his cheeks like rain : VI. ' Last night I was the King of Spain to-day no king am I; Last night fair castles held my train, to-night where shall I lie? Last night a hundred pages did serve me on the knee ; To-night not one I call mine own : not one pertains to me. VII. i O luckless, luckless was the hour, and cursed was the day, When I was born to have the power of this great signiory ! Unhappy me, that I should see the sun go down to-night! O Death, why now so slow art thou, why fearest thou to smite ?" c 2 THE PENITENCE OF DON RODERICK. THIS Ballad also is quoted in Don Quixote. " ' And let me tell you again/ quoth Sancho Panza to the Duchess, i if you don't think fit to give me an island because I am a fool, I will be so wise as not to care whether you do or no. It is an old saying, The Devil lurks behind the cross. All is not gold that glisters. From the tail of the plough, Bamba was made King of Spain ; and from his silks and riches, was Roderigo cast to be devoured by the snakes, if the old ballads say true, and sure they are too old to tell a lie/ * That they are indeed,' said Donna Rod- riguez, the old waiting- woman, who listened among the rest, ' for I remember one of the ballads tells us, how Don Rodrigo was shut up alive in a tomb full of toads, snakes, and lizards ; and how, after two days, he was heard to cry out of the tomb in a low and doleful_voice, " Now they eat me, now they gnaw me, in the part where I sinned most." And ac- cording to this the gentleman is in the right in saying he had rather be a poor labourer than a king, to be gnawed to death by vermin.' " Cervantes would scarcely have made this absurd story the subject of conversation between any more intelligent personages, than Sancho Panza and the venerable Donna Rodriguez. Never- theless, there is something very peculiar in the old ballad to which these interlocutors allude enough, perhaps, to make it worth the trouble of translation. There is a little difference between the ballad, as it stands in the Cancionero, and the copy which Donna Rodriguez quotes ; but I think the effect is better when there is only one snuke, than when the tomb is full of them. IT was when the King Rodrigo had lost his realm of Spain, In doleful plight he held his flight o'er Guadalete's plain; Afar from the fierce Moslem he fain would hide his wo, And up among the wilderness of mountains he would go. THE PENITENCE OF DON RODERICK. 21 n. There lay a shepherd by the rill, with all his flock beside him ; He asked him where upon his hill a weary man might hide him. " Not far," quoth he, " within the wood dwells our old Eremite ; He in his holy solitude will hide ye all the night." in. "Good friend," quoth he, "I hunger." "Alas!" the shepherd said, " My scrip no more containeth but one little loaf of bread." The weary King was thankful, the poor man's loaf he took, He by him sate, and while he ate, his tears fell in the brook. IV. From underneath his garment the King unlocked his chain, A golden chain with many a link, and the royal ring of Spain ; He gave them to the wondering man, and with heavy steps and slow He up the wild his way began, to the hermitage to go. The sun had just descended into the western sea, And the holy man was sitting in the breeze beneath his tree ; " I come, I come, good father, to beg a boon from thee : This night within thy hermitage give shelter unto me." VI. The old man looked upon the King, he scanned him o'er and o'er ; He looked with looks of wondering, he marvelled more and more; With blood and dust distained was the garment that he wore, And yet in utmost misery a kingly look he bore. VII. " Who art thou, weary stranger ? This path why hast thou ta'en?" " I am Rodrigo ; yesterday men called rue King of Spain ; I come to make my penitence within this lonely place ; Good father, take thou no offence, for God and Mary's grace." THE PENITENCE OF DON RODERICK VIII. The hermit looked with fearful eye upon Rodrigo's face, "Son, mercy dwells with the Most High not hopeless is thy case; Thus far thou well hast chosen, I to the Lord will pray, He will reveal what penance may wash thy sin aAvay." IX. Now, God us shield! it was revealed that he his bed must make Within a tomb, and share its gloom with a black and living snake. Rodrigo bowed his humbled head when God's command he heard, And with the snake prepared his bed, according to the word. The holy Hermit waited till the third day was gone, Then knocked he with his finger upon the cold tombstone. " Good kingj good king," the Hermit said, " now an answer give to me, How fares it with thy darksome bed and dismal company ?" XI. " Good father," said Rodrigo, " the snake hath touched me not, Pray for me, holy Hermit, I need thy prayers, God wot ; Because the Lord his anger keeps, I lie unharmed here ; The sting of earthly vengeance sleeps ; a worser pain I fear." XII. The Eremite his breast did smite when thus he heard him say, He turned him to his cell ; that night he loud and long did pray ; At morning hour he came again, then doleful moans heard he, From out the tomb the cry did come of gnawing misery. THE PENITENCE OF DON RODERICK. XIII. He spake, and heard Rodrigo's voice ; "0 Father Eremite, He eats me now, he eats me now, I feel the adder's bite ; The part that was most sinning my bed-fellow doth rend, There had my curse beginning, God grant it there may end !"- XIV. The holy man made answer in words of hopeful strain, He bade him trust the body's pang would save the spirit's pain. Thus died the good Rodrigo, thus died the King of Spain ; Washed from offence his spirit hence to God its flight hath THE MARCH OF BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. OF Bernardo del Carpio, we find little or nothing in the French romances of Charlemagne. He belongs exclusively to Spanish History, or rather perhaps to Spanish Eomance ; in which the honour is claimed for him of slaying the famous Orlando, or Roland, the nephew of Charlemagne, in the fatal field of Ron- cesvalles. The continence which procured for Alonzo, who succeeded to the precarious throne of the Christians, in the Asturias, about 795, the epithet of the Chaste, was not universal in his family. By an intrigue with Sancho Dias, Count of Saldana, or Saldenha, Donna Ximena, sister of this virtuous prince, bore a son. Some historians attempt to gloss over this incident, by alleging that a private marriage had taken place between the lovers : but King Alphonso, who was well nigh sainted for living ^only in platonic union with his wife Bertha, took the scandal greatly to heart. He shut up the peccant princess in a cloister, and imprisoned her gallant in the castle of Luna, where he caused him to be deprived of sight. Fortunately, his wrath did not extend to the offspring of their stolen affections, the famous Bernardo del Carpio. When the youth had grown up to manhood, Alphonso, according to the Spanish chroniclers, invited the Emperor Charlemagne into Spain, and having neglected to raise up heirs for the kingdom of the Goths in the ordinary manner, he pro- posed the inheritance of his throne as the price of the alliance of Charles. But the nobility, headed by Bernardo del Carpio, remonstrated against the king's choice of a successor, and would on no account consent to receive a Frenchman as heir of their crown. Alphonso himself repented of the invitation he had given Charlemagne, and when that champion of Christendom came to expel the Moors from Spain, he found the conscientious and chaste Alphonso had united with the infidels against him. An engagement took place in the renowned pass of Roncesvalles, in which the French were defeated, and the celebrated Roland, or Orlando, was slain. The victory was ascribed chiefly to the prowess of Bernardo del Carpio. MARCH OF BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. 25 The following Ballad describes the enthusiasm excited among the Leonese, when Bernard first raised his standard to oppose the progress of Charlemagne's army. WITH three thousand men of Leon, from the city Bernard goes, To protect the soil Hispanian from the spear of Frankish foes; From the city which is planted in the midst between the seas, To preserve the name and glory of old Pelayo's victories. IT. The peasant hears upon his field the trumpet of the knight, He quits his team for spear and shield, and garniture of might ; The shepherd hears it 'mid the mist he flingeth down his crook, And rushes from the mountain like a tempest-troubled brook. in. The youth who shews a maiden's chin, whose brows have ne'er been bound The helmet's heavy ring within, gains manhood from the sound : The hoary sire beside the fire forgets his feebleness, Once more to feel the cap of steel a warrior's ringlets press. IV. As through the glen his spears did gleam, these soldiers from the hills, They swelled his host, as mountain-stream receives the roaring rills ; They round his banner flocked, in scorn of haughty Charlemagne, And thus upon their swords are sworn the faithful sons of Spain. V. " Free were we born," 'tis thus they cry, " though to our King we owe The homage and the fealty behind his crest to go ; By God's behest our aid he shares, but God did ne'er commanc^ That we should leave our children heirs of an enslaved land. 26 MARGE OF BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. VI. " Our breasts are not so timorous, nor are our arms so weak, Nor are our veins so bloodless, that we our vow should break, To sell our freedom for the fear of Prince or Paladin, At least we'll sell our birthright dear, no bloodless prize they'll win. VII. " At least King Charles, if God decrees he must be lord of Spain, Shall witness that the Leonese were not aroused in vain ; He shall bear witness that we died, as lived our sires of old, Nor only of Nurnantium's pride shall minstrel tales be told. VIII. u The LIPN* that hath bathed his paws in seas of Libyan gore, Shall he not battle for the laws and liberties of yore ? Anointed cravens may give gold to whom it likes them well, But steadfast heart and spirit bold Alphonso ne'er shall sell." * The arms of Leon. THE COMPLAINT OF THE COUNT OF SALDENHA. [This Ballad is intended to represent the feelings of Don Sancho, Count of Saldenha or Saldana, while imprisoned by King Alphonso, and, as he supposed, neglected and forgotten, both by his wife, or rather mistress, Donna Ximena, and by his son, the famous Bernardo del Carpio.] THE Count Don Sancho Diaz, the Signior of Saldane, Lies weeping in his prison, for he cannot refrain : King Alphonso and his sister, of both doth he complain, But most of bold Bernardo, the champion of Spain. n. " The weary years I durance brook, how many they have been, When on these hoary hairs I look, may easily be seen ; When they brought me to this castle, my curls Were black, I ween, Wo worth the day ! they have grown grey these rueful walls between. ill. " They tell me my Bernardo is the doughtiest lance in Spain, But if he were my loyal heir, there's blood in every vein Whereof the voice his heart would hear his hand would not gainsay ; Though the blood of kings be mixed with mine, it would net have all the sway. IV. 6 Now all 3he -Jhree :i^v2 scorn of me unhappy man am I ! They leave me without pity they leave me here to die. & stranger's feud, albeit rude, were little dole or care, But he's my own, both flesh and bone ; his scorn is ill to bear. 28 THE COMPLAINT OF THE COUNT OF SALVENHA. v. " From Jailer and from Castellain I hear of hardiment And chivalry in listed plain on joust and tourney spent ; I hear of many a battle, in which thy spear is red, But help from thee comes none to me where I am ill bested. VI. " Some villain spot is in thy blood to rnar its gentle strain. Else would it shew forth hardihood for him from whom 'twaa ta'en ; Thy hope is young, thy heart is strong, but yet a day may be, When thou shalt weep in dungeon deep, and none thy weeping see." 29 THE FUNERAL OF THE COUNT OF SALDP]NHA. THE ballads concerning Bernardo del Carpio are, upon the whole, in accordance with his history as given in the Cwonica General. According to the Chronicle, Bernardo being at last wearied out of all patience by the cruelty of which his father was the victim, determined to quit the court of his King, and seek an alliance among the Moors. Having fortified himself in the Castle of Carpio, he made continual incursions into the territory of Leon, pillaging and plundering wherever he came. The King at length besieged him in his stronghold, but the defence was so gallant, that there appeared no prospect of success : whereupon many of the gentlemen in Alphonso's camp entreated the King to offer Bernardo immediate possession of his father's person, if he would surrender his castle. Bernardo at once consented ; but the King gave orders to have Count Sancho Diaz taken off instantly in his prison. u When he was dead they clothed him in splendid attire, mounted him on horseback, and so led him towards Salamanca, where his son was expecting his arrival. As they drew nigh the city, the King and Bernardo rode out to meet them ; and when Bernardo saw his father approaching, he exclaimed, 0, God ! is the Count of Saldaiia indeed coming ?' * Look where he is,' replied the cruel King ; * and now go and greet him whom you have so long desired to see.* Bernardo went forward and took his father's hand to kiss it ; but when he felt the dead weight of the hand, and saw the livid face of the corpse, he cried aloud, and said, * Ah, Don Sandiaz, in an evil hour didst thou beget me ! Thou art dead, and I have given my stronghold for thee, and now I have lost all. 7 " ALL in the centre of the choir Bernardo's knees are bent, Before him for his murdered sire yawns the old monument 30 THE FUNERAL OF THE COUNT OF 8ALDENHA. ii. His kinsmen of the Carpio blood are kneeling at his back, With knightly friends and vassals good, all garbed in weeds of black. in. He comes to make the obsequies of a basely slaughtered man, And tears are running down from eyes whence ne'er before th^y ran. IV. His head is bowed upon the stone; his heart, albeit full sore, Is strong as when in days by-gone he rode o'er Frank and Moor ; V. And now between his teeth he mutters, that none his words can hear ; And now the voice of wrath he utters, in curses loud and clear. VI. He stoops him o'er his father's shroud, his lips salute the bier ; He communes with the corse aloud, as if none else were near. VII. His right hand doth his sword unsheath, his left doth pluck his beard ; And while his liegemen held their breath, these were the words they heard : VIII. " Go up, go up, thou blessed ghost, into the arms of God ; Go, fear not lest revenge be lost, when Carpio's blood hath flowed ; u The steel that drank the blood of France, the arm thy foe that shielded, Still, Father, thirsts that burning lance, and still thy son cafl wield it." 31 BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO. [The incident recorded in this ballad may be supposed to have occurred immediately after the funeral of the Count of Saldenha. As to what was the end of the knight's history, we are left almost entirely in the dark, both by the Chronicle and by the Romancero. It appears to be intimated, that after his father's death, he once more "took service" among the Moors, who are represented in several of the ballads as accustomed to exchange offices of courtesy with Bernardo. ] WITH some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appeared Before them all in the palace hall, the lying King to beard; With cap in hand and eye on ground, he came in reverend guise, But ever and anon he frowned, and flame broke from his eyes. II. " A curse upon thee," cries the King, " who comest unbid to me ; But what from traitor's blood should spring, save traitors like to thea ? His sire, Lords, had a traitor's heart ; perchance our Champion brave Make think it were a pious part to share Don Sancho's grave." in. ft Whoever told this tale the King hath rashness to repeat," Cries Bernard, " here my gage I fling before THE LIAR'S feet ! No treason was in Sancho's blood, no stain in mine doth lie Below the throne what knight will own the coward calumny ? IV. " The blood that I like water shed, when Roland did advance, By secret traitors hired and led, to make us slaves of France ; The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval, Your words, Lord Kjng, are recompence abundant for it all. 82 BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO. v. " Your horse was down your hope was flown I saw the falchion shine, That soon had drunk your royal blood, had I not ventured mine; But memory soon of service done deserteth the ingrate, And ye've thanked the son for life and crown by the fathers bloody fate. VI. " Ye swore upon your kingly faith, to set Don Sancho free, But curse upon your paltering breath, the light he ne'er did see; He died in dungeon cold and dim, by Alphonso's base decree, And visage blind, and stiffened limb, were all they gave to me. VII. u The King that swerveth from his word hath stained his purple black, No Spanish Lord will draw the sword behind a Liar's back ; But noble vengeance shall be mine, an open hate I'll shew The King hath injured Carpio's line, and Bernard is his foe." VIII. " Seize seize him !" loud the King doth scream " There are a thousand here Let his foul blood this instant stream What ! Caitiffs, do ye fear? Seize seize .he traitor !" But not one to move a fingei dareth, Bernardo standeth by the throne, and calm his sword he bareth, IX. He drew the falchion from the sheath, and held it up on high, And all the hall was still as death : cries Bernard, " Hero am I, And here is the sword that owns no lord, excepting heaven and me ; Fain would I know who dares his point ^King, Cond6, or Grandee." BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO. 33 x. Then to his mouth the horn he drew (it hung below his cloak) His ten true men the signal knew, and through the ring they broke ; With helm on head, and blade in hand, the knights the circle brake, And back the lordlings 'gan to stand, and the false king to quake, 44 Ha! Bernard," quoth Alphonso, "what means this warlike guise ? Ye know full well I jested ye know your worth I prize." But Bernard turned upon his heel, and smiling passed away- Long rued Alphonso and his realm the jesting of that day. THE MAIDEN TRIBUTE. THE reign of King Ramiro was short, but glorious. He had not been many months seated on the throne, when Abderahman, the second of that name, sent a formal embassy to demand payment of an odious and ignominious tribute, which had been agreed to in the days of former and weaker princes, but which, it should seem, had not been exacted by the Moors while such men as Bernardo del Carpio, and Alphonso the Great, headed the forces of the Christians This tribute was a hundred virginsper annum. King Eamiro refused compliance, and marched to meet the army of Abderahman. The battle was fought near Albayda, (or Alveida,) and lasted for two entire days. On the first day, the superior discipline of the Saracen chivalry had nearly accomplished a complete victory, when the approach of night separated the combatants. During the night, Saint lago stood in a vision before the King, and promised to be with him next morning in the field. Accordingly the warlike apostle made his appearance, mounted on a milk-white charger, and armed cap-a-pee in radiant mail, like a true knight. The Moors sustained a signal defeat, and the Maiden Tribute was never afterwards paid, although often enough demanded. Such is, in substance, the story, as narrated by Mariana, (see Book vii. chap. 13,) who fixes the date of the battle of Alveida in the year eight hundred and forty-four, being the second year after the accession of King Ramiro. Mr. Southey says, that there is no mention of this battle of Alveida in the three authors who lived nearest the time ; but adds, that the story of Santiago's making his first appearance in a field of battle on the Christian side, is related at length by King Ramiro himself, in a charter granting a perpetual tribute of wine, corn, &c. to the Church of Compostella. Mr. Southey says, that the only old ballad he has seen in the Portuguese language, is founded upon a story of a Maiden Tribute. See Chronicle of the Cid. THE MAIDEN TRIBUTE. 35 i. THE noble King Ramiro within the chamber sate, One day, with all his barons, m council and debate, When, without leave or guidance of usher or of groom, There came a comely maiden into the council -room. II. She was a comely maiden she was surpassing fair, All loose upon her shoulders hung down her golden hair ; From head to foot her garments were white as white may be ; And while they gazed in silence, thus in the midst spake she. in. " Sir King, I crave your pardon, if I have done amiss In venturing before ye, at such an hour as this ; But I will tell my story, and when my words ye hear, I look for praise and honour, and no rebuke I fear. IV. " I know not if I'm bounden to call thee by the name Of Christian, King Ramiro ; for though thou dost not claim A heathen realm's allegiance, a heathen sure thou art, Beneath a Spaniard's mantle thou hidest a Moorish heart. V. " For he who gives the Moor-King a hundred maids of Spain, Each year when in its season the day comes round again ; If he be not a heathen, he swells the heathen's train 'Twere better burn a kingdom than suffer such disdain. VI. " If the Moslem must have tribute, make men your tribute- money, Send idle drones to teaze them within their hives of honey : For when 'tis paid with maidens, from every maid there spring Some five or six strong soldiers, to serve the Moorish King. D2 46 THE MAIDEN TRIBUTE. VII. " It is but little wisdom to keep our men at home, They serve but to get damsels, who, when their day is come, Must go, like all the others, the proud Moor's bed to sleep ki- ln all the rest they're useless, and nowise worth the keeping. VIII. 4t And if 'tis fear of battle that makes ye bow so low, And suffer such dishonour from God our Saviour's foe, I pray you, sirs, take warning, ye'll have as good a fright, If e'er the Spanish damsels arise themselves to right IX. " "Tis we have manly courage, within the breasts of women, But ye are all hare-hearted, both gentlemen and yeomen." - Thus spake that fearless maiden ; I wot when she was done, Uprose the King Ramiro and his nobles every one. The King call'd God to witness, that, come there weal or woe, Thenceforth no maiden -tribute from out Castile should go ; ' At least I will do battle on God our Saviour's foe, And die beneath my banner before I see it so." XI. A cry went through the mountains when the proud Moor drew near, And trooping to Ramiro came every Christian spear ; The blessed Saint lago, they called upon his name; That day began our freedom, and wiped away our shame. THE ESCAPE OF COUNT FEHNAN GONSALEZ. THE story of Fernan Gonsalez is detailed in the Cronica Antiqua de Esparto,, with so many romantic circumstances, that certain modern critics have been inclined to consider it as entirely fabulous. Of the main facts recorded, there seems, however, to be no good reason to doubt ; and it is quite certain, that from the earliest times, the name of Fernan Gonsalez has been held in the highest honour by the Spaniards themselves,. of every degree. He lived at the beginning of the 10th century. It was under his rule, according to the chronicles, that Castile first became an independent Christian state, and it was by his exertions that the first foundations were laid of that system of warfare, by which the Moorish power in Spain was at last over- thrown. He was so fortunate as to have a wife as heroic as himself, and both in the chronicles, and in the ballads, abundant justice is done to her merits. She twice rescued Fernan Gonsalez from confinement, at the risk of her own life. He had asked her hand in marriage of her father, Garcias, King of Navarre, and had proceeded so far on his way to that prince's court, when he was seized and cast into a dungeon, in consequence of the machinations of his enemy, the Queen of Leon, sister to the King of Navarre. Sancha, the young princess, whose alliance he had solicited, being informed of the cause of his journey, and of the sufferings to which it had exposed him, determined, at all hazards, to effect his liberation; and having done so by bribing his jailer, she accompanied his flight to Castile. Many years after, he fell into an ambush prepared for him by the same implacable enemy, and was again a fast prisoner in Leon. His Countess feigning a pilgrimage to St. James of Com- postella, obtained leave, in the first place, to pass through the hostile territory, and afterwards, in the course of her progress, permission to pass one night in the castle where her husband was confined. She exchanged clothes with him ; and he was so fortunate AS to pass in his disguise through the guards who 38 ESCAPE OF COUNT FERNAN GONSALEZ. attended on him his courageous wife remaining in his place exactly in the same manner in which the Countess of Nithsdale effected the escape of her lord from the Tower of London, on the 23rd of February, 1715. There is, as might be 'supposed, a whole body of old ballads, concerning the adventures of Fernan Gonsalez. I shall, as a specimen, translate on^ of the shortest of these, that in which the first of his romantic escapes is described. . THEY have carried afar into Navarre the great Count of Castile, And they have bound him sorely, they have bound him hand and heel; The tidings up the mountains go, and down among the valleys, "To the rescue! to the rescue, ho! they have ta'en Fernan Gonsalez." A noble knight of Normandy was riding through Navarre, For Christ his hope he came to cope with the Moorish scymitar; To the Alcaycle of the Tower, in secret thus said he, " These bezaunts fair with thee I'll share, so I this lord may see." The Alcayde was full joyful, he took the gold full soon, And he brought him to the dungeon, ere the rising of the moon ; He let him out at morning, at the grey light of the prime, But many words between these lords had passed within that time. The Norman knight rides swiftly, for he hath made him bow^xe To a king that is full joyous, and to a feastful town ; For there is joy and feasting, because that lord is ta'en, King G-arci in his dungeon holds the doughtiest lord in Spain. The Norman feasts among the guests, but at the evening tide He speaks to Garci's daughter, within her bower aside ; * Now God forgive us, lady, and God his mother dear, For on a day of sorrow we have been blithe of cheer. ESCAPE OF COUNT FERNAN GONSALEZ. 39 " The Moors may well be joyful, but great should be our grief, For Spain has lost her guardian, when Castile has lost her chief ; The Moorish host is pouring like a river o'er the land, Curse on the Christian fetters that bind Gonsalez' hand ! " Gonsalez loves thee, lady, he loved thee long ago, But little is the kindness that for his love you show ; The curse that lies on Caba's* head, it may be shared by thee ^rise, let love with love be paid, and set Gonsalez free." The lady answered little, but at the mirk of night, When all her maids are sleeping, she hath risen and ta'en her flight ; She hath tempted the Alcayde with her jewels and her gold, And unto her his prisoner that jailer false hath sold. She took Gonsalez by the hand at the dawning of the day, She said, "Upon the heath you stand, before you lies yorr way; But if I to my father go, alas ! what must I do ? My father will be angry I fain would go with you." He hath kissed the Infanta, he hath kissed her, brow and cheek, And lovingly together the forest path they seek ; Till in the greenwood hunting they met a lordly priest, With his bugle at his girdle, and his hawk upon his wrist. u Now stop! now stop!" the priest he said, (he knew them both right well,) " Now stop, and pay your ransom, or I your flight will tell; Now stop, thou fair Infanta, for if my words you scorn, I'll give warning to the foresters with the blowing of my horn." * Caba, or Cava, the unfortunate daughter of Count Julian. Xa child in Spain was ever christened by that ominous name after the down fall of the Gothic kingdom. 40 ESOAPE OF COVtif FERNAN GONSALEZ. The base priest's word Gonsalez heard, "Now, by the rood !" quoth he, " A hundred deaths I'll suffer, or ere this thing shall be." But in his ear she whispered, she whispered soft and slow, And to the priest she beckoned within the wood to go. It was ill with Count Gonsalez, the fetters pressed his knees, Yet as he could he followed within the shady trees " For help, for help, Gonsalez ! for help," he hears her cry, " God aiding, fast I'll hold thee, until my lord come nigh." He has come within the thicket, there lay they on the green, And he has plucked from off the grass the false priest's javelin ; Firm by the throat she held him bound, down went the weapon sheer, Down through his body to the ground, even as the b^ar ye spear. They wrapped him in his mantle, and left him there to bleed, And all that day they held their way ; his palfrey served their need ; Till to their ears a sound did come, might fill their hearts with dread, A steady whisper on the breeze, and horsemen's heavy tread. The Infanta trembled in the wood, but forth the Count did go, And, gazing wide, a troop descried upon the bridge below ; " Gramercy !" quoth Gonsalez " or else my sight is gone, Methinks I know the pennon yon sun is shining on. " Come forth, come forth, Infanta, mine own true men they be, Come forth, and see my banner, and cry Castile ! with me : My merry men draw near me, I see my pennon shine, Their swords shine bright, Infanta, and every blade is thine." THE SEVEN HEADS. " IT was in the following year, (nine hundred and eighty-six,) that the seven most noble brothers, commonly called the INFANTS OF LARA, were slain by the treachery of Buy Velasquez, who was their uncle, for they were the sons of his sister, Donna Sancha. By the father's side, they were sprung from the Counts of Castile, through the Count Don Diego Porcellos. From whose daughter, as has been narrated above, and Nuilo Pelchides, there came two sons, namely, Nuiio Kasura, great-grandfather of the Count Garci Fernandez, and Gustio Gonzalez. The last- named gentleman was father of GONZALO GUSTIO, Lord of Salas of Lara ; and his sons were those seven brothers famous in the history of Spain, not more by reason of their deeds of prowess, than of the disastrous death which was their fortune. They were all knighted in the same day by the Count Don Garcia, according to the fashion which prevailed in those days, and more especially in Spain. " Now it happened that Ruy Velasquez, Lord of Villaren, celebrated his nuptials in Burgos with Donna Lambra, a lady of very high birth, from the country of Briviesca, and indeed a cousin-german to the Count Garci Fernandez himself. The ieast was splendid, and great was the concourse of principal gentry ; and among others were present the Count Garci Fernandez, and those seven brothers, with Gonzalo Gustio, their father. " From some trivial occasion, there arose a quarrel between Gonzalez, the youngest of the seven brothers, on the one hand, and a relation of Donna Lambra, by name Alvar Sanchez, on the other, without, however, any very serious consequences at the time. But Donna Lambra conceived herself to have been insulted by the quarrel, and in order to revenge herself, when the seven brothers were come as far as Barvadiello, riding in her train, the more to do her honour, she ordered one of her sbves to throw at Gonzalez a wild cucumber soaked in blood, a heavy insult and outrage, according to the then existing customs and opinions in Spain. The slave, having done as he was bid, fled for protection to his lady, Donna Lambra ; but that availed him nothing, for they slew him within the very folds of her garment, 42 TEE SEVEN HEADS. " RUY VELASQUEZ, who did not witness these tilings with his own eyes, no sooner returned, than, filled with wrath on account of this slaughter, and of the insult to his bride, he began tstile. t The arms of Fi mice GARCI PEREZ DE VARGAS. THE crowns of Castile and Leon being at length joined in the person of King Ferdinand, surnamed El Santo, the authority of the Moors in Spain was destined to receive many severe blows from the united efforts of two Christian states, which had in former times too often exerted their vigour against each other. The most important event of King Ferdinand's reign was the conquest of Seville, which great city yielded to his arms in the year 1248, after sustaining a long and arduous siege of sixteen months. Don Garci Perez de Vargas was one of the most distinguished warriors who on this great occasion fought under the banners of Ferdinand ; and accordingly there are many ballads of which he is the hero. The incident celebrated in that which follows, is thus told, with a few variations, in the seventh chapter of the thirteenth book of MARIANA : " Above all others, there signalized himself in these affairs that Garci Perez de Vargas, a native of Toledo, of whose valour so many marvellous, and almost incredible achievements, are related. One day about the beginning of the siege, this Garci Perez, and another with him, were riding by the side of the river, at some distance from the outposts, when, of a sudden, there came upon them a party of seven Moors on horseback. The companion of Perez was for returning immediately, but he replied, that i never, even though he should lose his life for it, would he consent to the baseness of flight.' With that, his companion riding off, Perez armed himself, closed his visor, and put his lance in the rest. But the enemies, when they knew who it was, declined the combat. u He had therefore pursued his way by himself for some space, when he perceived, that in lacing the head-piece and shutting the visor, he had, by inadvertence, dropt his scarf. He immediately returned upon his steps that he might seek for it. The King, as it happened, had his eyes upon Perez all this time, for the royal tent looked towards the place where he was riding, and he never doubted that the knight had turned back for the purpose of provoking the Moors to the combat. But they avoided him as before, and he, having regained his scarf, came in safety to the camp. 70 GAECI PEREZ DE VAEGAS. " The honour of the action was much increased by this circumstance, that although frequently pressed to disclose the name of the gentleman who had deserted him in that moment ot danger, Garci Perez would never consent to do so, for his modesty was equal to his bravery." A little farther on Mariana relates, that Garci Perez had a dispute with another gentleman, who thought proper to assert that Garci had no right to assume the coat-of-arms which he wore. " A sally having been made by the Moors, that gentle- man, among many more, made his escape, but Garci stood firm to his post, and never came back to the camp until the Moors were driven again into the city. He came with his shield all bruised and battered to the place where the gentleman w r as standing, and pointing to the effaced bearing which was on it, said, ' Indeed, sir, it must be confessed that you show more respect than I do to this same coat-of-arms, for you keep yours bright and unsullied, while mine is sadly discoloured.' The gentleman was sorely ashamed, and thenceforth Garci Perez bore his achievement without gainsaying or dispute." KING Ferdinand alone did stand one day upon the hill, Surveying all his leaguer, and the ramparts of Seville ; The sight was grand, when Ferdinand by proud Seville was lying, O'er tower and tree far off to see the Christian banners flying. II. Down chanced the King his eye to fling, where far the camp below Two gentlemen along the glen were riding soft and slow ; As void of fear each cavalier seemed to be riding there, As some strong hound may pace around the roebuck's thickest lair. ill. It was Don Garci Perez, and he would breathe the air, And he had ta'en a knight with him, that as lief had been else- where ; For soon this knight to Garci said, " Ride, ride we, or we're lost ! I see the glance of helm and lance it is the Moorish Host." GAItCI PEREZ DE VARGAS. 71 IV. The Baron of Vargas turned him round, his trusty squire was near, The helmet on his brow he bound, his gauntlet grasped his spc;;ir ; With that upon his saddle-tree he planted him right steady, " Now come," quoth he, " whoe'er they be, I trow they'll find us ready." v. By this the knight who rode with him had turned his horse's head, And up the glen in fearful trim unto the camp had fled. " Ha ! gone ?" - quoth Garci Perez ; he smiled, and aaid no more, But slowly with his esquire rode as he rode before. VI. It was the Count Lorenzo, just then it happened so, He took his stand by Ferdinand, and with him gazed below ; " My liege," quoth he, " seven Moors I see a-coming from the wood, Now bring they all the blows they may, I trow they'll find as good; But it is Don Garci Perez, if his cognizance they know, I guess it will be little pain to give them blow for blow." VII. The Moors from forth the greenwood came riding one by one, A gallant troop with armour resplendent in the sun ; Full haughty was their bearing, as o'er the sward they came, While the calm Lord of Vargas his march was still the same. VIII. They stood drawn up in order, while past them all rode he, For when upon his shield they saw the Red Cross and the Tree, And the wings of the Black Eagle, that o'er his crest wero spread, They knew it was Garci Perez, and never a word they said. 72 GARCI PEREZ I)E VARGAS. IX. He took the casque from off his head, and gave it to the squire, " My friend," quoth he, "no need I see why I my brows should tire." But as he doffed the helmet, he saw his scarf was gone, "I've dropt it sure," quoth Garci, " when I put my helmet on." He looked around and saw the scarf, for still the Moors were near, And they had picked it from the sward, and looped it on a spear; " These Moors," quoth Garci Perez, " tin courteous Moors they be- Now, by my soul, the scarf they stole, yet durst not question me! XI. " Now, reach once more my helmet" The esquire said him nay, " For a silken string why should ye iling perchance your life away ?" " I had it from my lady," quoth Garci, " long ago, And never Moor that scarf, be sure, in proud Seville shall show." XII. But when the Moslem saw him, they stood in firm array, He rode among their armed throng, he rode right furiously ; "Stand, stand, ye thieves and robbers, lay down my lady's pledge !" He cried, and ever as he cried they felt his falchion's edge. XIII. That day when the Lord of Vargas came to the camp alone, The scarf, his lady's largess, around his breast was thrown ; Bare was his head, his sword was red, and from his pommel strung, Seven turbans green, sore hacked I ween, before Garci Perez hung. 73 THE POUNDER. A BALLAD concerning another doughty knight of the same family and most probably, considering the date, a brother of Garci Perez de Vargas. Its story is thus alluded to in Don Quixote, in the chapter of The Windmills: " However, the loss of his lance was no small affliction to him; and as he was making his complaint about it to his squire, ' I have read,' said he, * friend Sancho, that a certain Spanish knight) whose name was Diego Perez de Vargas, having broken his sword in the heat of an engagement, pulled up by the roots a huge oak-tree, or at least tore down a massy branch, and did such wonderful execution, crushing and grinding so many Moors with it that day, that he won himself and his posterity the sirname of The Pounder or Bruiser.* I tell this, because I intend to tear up the next oak, or holm-tree, we meet ; with the trunk whereof I hope to perform such wondrous deeds, that thou wilt esteem thyself particularly happy in having had the honour to behold them, and been the ocular witness of achieve- ments which posterity will scarce be able to believe.' ' Heaven grant you may,' cried Sancho : 1 1 believe it all, because your worship says it.'" THE Christians have beleaguered the famous walls of Xeres, Among them are Don Alvar and Don Diego Perez, And many other gentlemen, who, day succeeding day, Give challenge to the Saracen and all his chivalry. ii. When rages the hot battle before the gates of Xeres, By trace of gore ye may explore the dauntless path of Perez. No knight like Don Diego no sword like his is found In all the host, to hew the boast of Paynims to the ground. * Machuca, from Machucar, to pound as in a mortar. 74 THE P DUNDEE. m. It fell one day when furiously they battled on the plain, Diego shivered both his lance and trusty blade in twain; The Moors that saw it shouted, for esquire none was near, To serve Diego at his need with falchion, mace, or spear. IV. Loud, loud he blew his bugle, sore troubled was his eye, But by God's grace before his face there stood a tree full nigh, A comely tree witli branches strong, close by the walls of Xeres " Yon goodly bough will serve, I trow," quoth Don Diego Perez. v. A gnarled branch he soon did wrench down from that olive strong, Which o'er his head-piece brandishing, he spurs among the throng. God wot ! full many a Pagan must in his saddle reel ! What leech shall cure, what priest shall shrive, if once that weight ye feel ? VI. But when Don Alvar saw him thus bruising down the foe, Quoth he, a I've seen some flail-armed man belabour barley so 1 Sure mortal mould did ne'er enfold such mastery of power ; Let's call Diego Perez THE POUNDER* from this hour. * MACHUCA. THE MURDER OF THE MASTER OF ST. I AGO. TEIE next four ballads relate to the history of DON PEDRO, King of Castile, called THE CRUEL. An ingenious person not long ago published a work, the avowed purpose of which was to prove that Tiberius was a humane and contemplative prince, who retired to the Island of Capreaj only that he might the better indulge in the harmless luxury of philosophic meditation: and, in like manner, Pedro The Cruel has found, in these latter times, his defenders and apologists ; above all, Voltaire. There may be found, without doubt, in the circumstances which attended his accession, something to palliate the atrocity of several of his bloody acts. His father had treated his mother with contempt : He had not only entertained, as his mistress, in her lifetime, a lady of the powerful family of Guzman, but ac- tually proclaimed that lady his queen, and brought up her sons as princes in his palace ; nay, he had even betrayed some in- tentions of violating, in their favour, the order of succession, and the rights of Pedro. And, accordingly, no sooner was Alphonso dead, and Pedro acknowledged by the nobility, than Donna Leonora de Guzman, and her sons, whether from con- sciousness of guilt, or from fear of violence, or from both of these causes, betook themselves to various places of strength, where they endeavoured to defend themselves against the authority of the new King. After a little time, matters were so far accommodated by the interference of friends, that Donna Leonora took up her residence at Seville ; but Pedro was suddenly, while in that city, seized with a distemper which his physicians said must, in all probability, have a mortal termina- tion; and daring his confinement, (which lasted for several weeks) many intrigues were set a-foot, and the pretensions of various candidates for the throne openly canvassed among the nobility of Castile. Whether the King had, on his recovery, discovered anything indicative of treasonous intentions in the recent conduct of Leonora and her family, (which, all things considered, seems 76 THE MUIWER OF THE MASTER OF ST. IAGO. not improbable,) or whether he merely suffered himself, as was said at the time, to be over-persuaded by the vindictive argu- ments of his own mother, the queen-dowager, the fact is certain, that in the course of a few days, Donna Leonora was arrested, and put to death by Pedro's command, in the Castle of Talaveyra. Don Fadrique, (or Frederick,) one of her sons, who had obtained the dignity of Master of the order of St. lago, fled upon this into Portugal, and fortified himself in the city of Coimbra ; while another of them, Don Enrique, or Henry, Lord of Trastamara, took refuge at the Court of Arragon, openly renouncing his allegiance to the crown of Castile, and professing himself henceforth, in all things, the subject and vassal of tho prince who gave him protection. Henry of Trastamara was, from this time, the declared and active enemy of his brother ; and in consequence of his in- fluence, and that of his mother's kindred, but most of all, in consequence of Don Pedro's own atrocious proceedings, Castile itself was filled with continual tumults and insurrections. Don Fadrique, however, made his peace with Pedro. After a lapse of many months, he was invited to come to the court at Seville, and take his share in the amusements of an approaching tournament. He accepted the invitation, but was received with terrible coldness, and immediately executed within the palace. The friends of Pedro asserted that the King had that very day detected Don Fadrique in a correspondence with his brother, Henry of Trastamara, and the Arragonese ; while popular belief attributed the slaughter of the Master to the unhappy influence which the too celebrated Maria de Padilla had long ere this begun to exercise over Pedro's mind. Maria was often, in consequence of her close intimacy with Jews, called by the name of their hated race ; but she was in reality not only of Christian, but of noble descent in Spain. However that might be, Pedro found her in the family of his minister, Albuquerque, w r here she had been brought up, loved her with all the violence of his temper, and made her his wife in all things but the name. Although political motives induced him, not long afterwards, to contract an alliance with a princess of the French blood royal, the unfortunate Blanche of Bourbon, he lived with his young queen but a few days, and then deserted her for ever, for the sake of this beautiful, jealous and imperious mistress. The reader will observe, that there is a strange peculiarity in the structure of the ballad which narrates the Murder of the THE MURDER OF THE MASTER OF ST. I AGO. 77 Master of Saint lago. The unfoitunate Fadrique is introduced in the beginning of it as telling his own story, and so he carries it on, in the first person, until the order for his execution is pronounced by Pedro. The sequel is given as if by another voice. I can suppose this singularity to have had a musical origin. The Master was slain in the year 1358. ct l SAT alone in Coimbra the town myself had ta'en, When came into my chamber, a messenger from Spain ; There was no treason in his look, an honest look he wore ; I from his hand the letter took, my brother's seal it bore. II. " * Come, brother dear, the day draws near,' ('twas thus bespoke the King), 4 For plenar court and knightly sport, within the listed ring/- Alas ! unhappy Master, I easy credence lent; Alas ! for fast and faster I at his bidding went. HI. " When I set off from Coimbra, and passed the bound of Spain, I had a goodly company of spearmen in my train; A gallant force, a score of horse, and sturdy mules thirteen : With joyful heart I neld my course my years were young and green. IV. " A journey of good fifteen days within the week was done, I halted not, though signs I got, dark tokens many a one ; A strong stream mastered horse and mule, I lost my poniard fine, And left a page within the pool, a faithful page of mine. V. " Yet on to proud Seville I rode ; when to the gate I came, Before me stood a man of God, to warn me from the same ; The words he spake I would not hear, his grief I would not see, seek, said I, my brother dear I will not stop for thee. 78 THE MUBDER OF TIIE MASTEll OF St. I AGO. VI, 11 No lists were closed upon the sand, for royal tourney dight; No pawing horse was seen to stand, I saw no armed knight ; Yet aye I gave my mule the spur, and hastened through the town, I stopt before his palace-door, then gaily leapt I down. " They shut the door, my trusty score of friends were left behind ; I would not hear their whispered fear, no harm was in my mind ; I greeted Pedro, but he turned I wot his look was cold ; His brother from his knees he spurned ' Stand off, thou Master bold VIII. " ' Stand off, stand off, thou traitor strong,' 'twas thus he said to mo, ( Thy time on earth shall not be long what brings thee to my knee ? My Lady craves a New-year's gift, and I will keep my word ; Thy head methiriks may serve the shift Good yeoman, draw thy sword.' " IX. The Master lay upon the floor ere well that word was said, Then in a charger off they bore his pale and bloody head ; They brought it to Padilla's chair, they bowed them on the knee, " King Pedro greets thee, Lady fair, his gift he sends to thee." She gazed upon the Master's head, her scorn it could not scare, And cruel were the words she said, and proud her glances were ; " Thou now shalt pay, thou traitor base, the debt of many a year, My dog shall lick that haughty face ; no more that lip shall sneer." XI. She seized it by the clotted hair, and o'er the window flung ; The mastiff smelt it in his lair, forth at her cry he sprung ; The mastiff that had crouched so low to lick the Master's hand, He tossed the morsel to and fro, and licked it on the sand. TUB MURDEH OP THE MASTfiR OF ST. IAGG. 79 XII. And ever as the mastiff tore, his bloody teeth were shown, With growl and snort he made his sport, and picked it to the bone. The baying of the beast was loud, and swiftly on the street There gathered round a gaping crowd, to see the mastiff eat. XIII. Then out and spake King Pedro, " What governance is this 1 The rabble rout, my gate without, torment my dogs, I wiss." Then out and spake King Pedro's page, " It is the Master's head, The mastiff tears it in his rage, therewith they him have fed." XIV. Then out and spake the ancient Nurse, that nursed the brothers twain, " On thee, King Pedro, lies the curse, thy brother thou hast slain ; A thousand harlots there may be within the realm of Spain, But where is she can give to thee thy brother back again ?" xv. Came darkness o'er King Pedro's brow, when thus he heard her say; He sorely rued the accursed vow he had fulfilled that day ; He passed unto his paramour, where on her couch she lay, Leaning from out her painted bower, to see the mastiff's play. XVI. He drew her to a dungeon dark, a dungeon strong and deep ; " My father's son lies stiff and stark, and there are few to weep. Fadrique's blood for vengeance calls, his cry is in mine ear ; Thou art the cause, thou harlot false, in darkness lie thou here." 80 THE DEATH OF QUEEN BLANCHE. THAT PEDRO was accessory to the violent death of this young and innocent Princess whom he had married, and immediately afterwards deserted for ever, there can be no doubt. This atrocious deed was avenged abundantly ; for it certainly led, in the issue, to the downfall and death of Pedro himself. Mariana says, very briefly, that the injuries sustained by Queen Blanche had so much offended many of Pedro's own nobility, that they drew up a formal remonstrance, and presented it to him in a style sufficiently formidable ; and that he, hisprjoudand fierce temper being stung to madness by what he considered an unjustifiable interference with his domestic concerns, immediately gave orders for the poisoning of Blanche in her prison. In the old French Memoirs of Du Guesclin, a much more improbable story is told at great length. The Queen Blanche, according to this account, had been banished to Medina, the adjoining territory being assigned to her for her maintenance. One of her vassals, a Jew, presumed to do his homage in the usual fashion, that is by kissing Blanche on the cheek, ere his true character was suspected either by her or her attendants. No sooner was the man known to be a Jew, than he was driven from the presence of the Queen with every mark of insult ; and this sunk so deeply into his mind, that he determined to revenge himself, if possible, by the death of Blanche. He told his story to Maria de Pad ilia, who prevailed on the King to suffer him to take his own measures ; and he accordingly surprised the Castle of Medina by night, at the head of a troop of his own country- men, and butchered the unhappy lady. The ballad itself is, in all likelihood, as trustworthy as any other authority ; but the true particulars of such a crime were pretty sure to be kept concealed. THE DEATH OF QUEEN BLANCHE. 81 11 MARIA DH PADILLA, be not thus of dismal mood, For if I twice have wedded me, it all was for thy good;* " But if upon Queen Blanche ye will that I some scorn should show, For a banner to Medina my messenger shall go j " The work shall be of Blanche's tears, of Blanche's blood the ground ; Such pennon shall they weave for thee, such sacrifice be found." Then to the Lord of Ortis, that excellent baron, He said, " Now hear me, Ynigo, forthwith for this begone." Then answer made Don Ynigo, " Such gift I ne'er will bring, For he that harmeth Lady Blanche doth harm my lord the king." Then Pedro to his chamber went, his cheek was burning red, And to a bowman of his guard the dark command he said. The bowman to Medina passed; when the Queen beheld him near, " Alas !" she said, " my maidens, he brings my death, I fear." Then said the archer, bending low, u The King's commandment take, And see thy soul be ordered well with God that did it make. " For lo ! thine hour is come, therefrom no refuge may there be." Then gently spake the Lady Blanche, " My friend, I pardon thee ; " Do what thou wilt, so be the King hath his commandment given, Deny me not confession if so, forgive ye Heaven." * According to Mariana, Pedro had not declared himself married to Maria de Padilla, at the period of Queen Blanche's death. 82 THE DEATH OF QUEEN BLANCHE. Much grieved the bowman for her tears, and for her beauty'a sake, While thus Queen Blanche of Bourbon her last complaint did make ; " Oh France ! my noble country oh blood of high Bourbon, Not eighteen years have I seen out before my life is gone. " The King hath never known me. A virgin true I die. Whate'cr I've done, to proud Castile no treason e'er did I. " The crown they put upon my head was a crown of blood and sighs, God grant me soon another crown more precious in the skies." These words she spake, then down she knelt, and took the bowman's blow Her tender neck war, cut in twain, and out her blood did flow. 83 THE DEATH OF DON PEDRO. THE reader may remember, that when Don Pedro had, by his excessive cruelties, quite alienated from himself the hearts of the great majority of his people, Don Henry of Trastamara, his natural brother, who had spent many years in exile, returned suddenly into Spain with a formidable band of French auxiliaries, by whose aid he drove Pedro out of his kingdom. The voice of the nation was on Henry's side, and he took possession of the throne without further opposition. Pedro, after his treatment of Queen Blanche, could have nothing to hope from the crown of France, so he immediately threw himself into the arms of England. And our Edward, the Black Prince, who then commanded in Gascony, had more than one obvious reason for taking up his cause. The Prince of Wales marched with Don Pedro into Spain, at the head of an army of English and Gascon veterans, whose disciplined valour, Mariana very frankly confesses, gave them a decided superiority over the Spanish soldiery of the time. Henry was so unwise as to set his stake upon a battle, and was totally defeated in the field of Najara. Unable to rally his flying troops, he was compelled to make his escape beyond the Pyrenees ; and Don Pedro once more established himself in his kingdom. The battle of Najara took place in 1366. But, in 1368, when the Black Prince had retired again into Gascony, Henry, in his turn, came back from exile with a small but gallant army, most of whom were French, commanded by the celebrated Bertram Du Gleasquin, or, as he is more commonly called, Du Guesclin and animated, as was natural, by strong thirst of vengeance for the insults, which, in the person of Blanche, Pedro had heaped upon the royal line of their country, and the blood of Saint Louis. Henry of Trastamara advanced into the heart of La Mancha, and there encountered Don Pedro, at the head of an army six times more numerous than that which he commanded, but com- posed in a great measure of Jews, Saracens, and Portuguese, miscellaneous auxiliaries, who gave way before the ardour of the French chivalry, so that Henry remained victorious, and Pedro was compelled to take refuge in the neighbouring castle of G 2 84 TIIE DEATH OF DON PEDRO. Montiel. That fortress was so strictly blockaded by the suc- cessful enemy, that the king was compelled to attempt his escape by night, with only twelve persons in his retinue, Ferdinand de Castro being the person of most note among them. As they wandered in the dark, they were encountered by a body of French cavalry making the rounds, commanded by an adventurous knight, called Le Begue de Villaines. Compelled to surrender, Don Pedro put himself under the safeguard of this officer, promising him a rich ransom, if he would conceal him from the knowledge of his brother Henry. The knight, accord- ing to Froissart, promised him concealment, and conveyed him to his own quarters. But in the course of an hour, Henry was apprized that he was taken, and came with some of his followers to the tent of Allan de la Houssaye, where his unfortunate brother had been placed. On entering the chamber, he exclaimed, " Where is that whore-son and Jew, who calls himself King of Castile?" Pedro, as proud and fearless as he was cruel, stepped instantly forward and replied, " Here I stand, the lawful son and heir of Don Alphonso, and it is thou that art but a false bastard." The rival brethren instantly grappled like lions, the French knights and Du Guesclin himself looking on. Henry drew his poniard and wounded Pedro in the face, but his body was defended by a coat-of-mail ; a violent struggle ensued : Henry fell across a bench, and his brother being uppermost, had weli- nigh mastered him, when one of Henry's followers seizing Don Pedro by the leg, turned him over, and his master, thus at length gaining the upper-hand, instantly stabbed the King to the heart. Froissart calls this man the Vicompte de Roquebetyn, and others the Bastard of Anisse. Menard, in his History of Du Guesclin, says, that while all around gazed like statues on the furious struggle of the brothers, Du Guesclin exclaimed to this attendant of Henry, " What ! will you stand by and see your master placed at such a pass by a false renegade ? Make for- ward and aid him, for well you may." Pedro's head was cut off, and his remains were meanly buried. They were afterwards disinterred by his daughter, the wife of our own John of Gaunt, "time-honoured Lancaster," and deposited in Seville, with the honours due to his rank. His memory was regarded with a strange mixture of horror and compassion, which recommended him as a subject for legend THE DEATH OF DON VEDUO. 85 and for romance. He had caused his innocent wife to be as- sassinated had murdered three of his brothers, and com- mitted numberless cruelties upon his subjects. He had, which the age held equally scandalous, held a close intimacy with the Jews and Saracens, and had enriched him at the expense of tho church. Yet, in spite of all these crimes, his undaunted bravery and' energy of character, together with the strange circumstances of his death, excited milder feelings towards his memory. The following ballad, which describes the death of Don Pedro, was translated by a friend.* It is quoted more than once by Cervantes in Don Quixote. I. HENRY and King Pedro clasping, Hold in straining arms each other ; Tugging hard, and closely grasping, Brother proves his strength with brother. n. Harmless pastime, sport fraternal, Blends not thus their limbs in strife ; Either aims, with rage infernal, Naked dagger, sharpened knife. in. Close Don Henry grapples Pedro, Pedro holds Don Henry strait, Breathing, this, triumphant fury, That, despair and mortal hate. IT. Sole spectator of the struggle, Stands Don Henry's page afar, In the chase who bore his bugle, And who bore his sword in war. * " Sir Walter Scott," says Lockhart himself, edition of 1853. THE DEATH OF DON PEDRO. v. Down they go in deadly wrestle, Down upon the earth they go, Fierce King Pedro has the vantage, Stout Don Henry falls below. VI. Marking then the fatal crisis, Up the page of Henry ran, By the waist he caught Don Pedro, Aiding thus the fallen man. VII. " King to place, or to depose him, Dwelleth not in my desire, But the duty which he. owes him, To his master pays the squire."* VIII. Now Don Henry has the upmost, Now King Pedro lies beneath, In his heart his brother's poniard Instant finds its bloody sheath. Thus with mortal gasp and quiver, While the blood in bubbles welled, Fled the fiercest soul that ever In a Christian bosom dwelled. 87 THE PROCLAMATION OF KING HENRY. THE following ballad, taking up the story where it is left in the preceding one, gives us the Proclamation and Coronation of Don Henry, surriamed, from the courtesy of his manners, El Cavallero, and the grief of Pedro's lovely and unhappy mistress, Maria de Padilla. From its structure and versification, I have no doubt it is of much more modern origin than most of those in the first Cancionero. The picture which Mariana gives us of Don Pedro, the hero of so many atrocious and tragical stories, is to me very striking. u He was pale of complexion," says the historian ; " his features were high and well formed, and stamped with a certain authority of majesty, his hair red, his figure erect, even to stiffness ; he was bold and determined in action and in council ; his bodily frame^sank under no fatigues, his spirit under no weight of difficulty or of danger. He was passionately fond of hawking, and all violent exercises. u In the beginning of his reign, he administered justice among private individuals with perfect integrity. But even then were visible in him the rudiments of those vices which grew with his age, and finally led him to his ruin ; such as a general contempt and scorn of mankind, an insulting tongue, a proud and difficult car, even to those of his household. These faults were discern- ible even in his tender years ; to them, as he advanced in life, were added avarice, dissolution in luxury,- an utter hardness of heart, and a remorseless cruelty." MARIANA, Book XVI. ch. 10. The reader will find almost the whole of Don Pedro's history clothed in a strain of glowing and elegant poetryj in the Baron de la Motte Fouque. See his " Bertrand Du Guesclin, historisches ritter-gedicht." 88 THE PEOCLAMATION OF KING HENRY. i. AT the feet of Don Henrique now King Pedro dead is lying, Not that Henry's might was greater, but that blood to Heaven was crying. Though deep the dagger had its sheath within his brother's breast, Firm on the frozen throat beneath Don Henry's foot is prest. II. So dark and sullen is the glare of Pedro's lifeless eyes, Still half he fears what slumbers there to vengeance may arise. So stands the brother, on his brow the mark of blood is seen, Yet had he not been Pedro's Cain, his Cain had Pedro been. in. Close round the scene of cursed strife, the armed knights appear Of either band, with silent thoughts of joy fulness or fear ; All for a space, in silence, the fratricide survey, Then sudden bursts the mingling voice of triumph and dismay. IV. Glad shout on shout from Henry's host ascends unto the sky ; " God save King Henry save the King King Henry !" is their cry. But Pedro's Barons clasp their brows, in sadness stand they near, Whate'er to others he had been, their friend lies murdered here. v. The deed, say those, was justly done a tyrant's soul is sped; These ban and curse the traitorous blow, by which a King is dead. " Now see," cries one, " how Heaven's amand asserts the people's rights;" Another "God will judge the hand that God's anointed smites." THE PROCLAMATION OF KING HENUY. 89 VI. " The Lord's vicegerent," quoth a priest, " is sovereign of the land, And he rebels 'gainst heaven's behest, that slights his King's command." " Now Heaven be witness, if he sinned," thus speaks a gallant young, " The fault was in Padilla's eye, that o'er him magic flung ; VII. " Or if no magic be her blame, so heavenly fair is she, The wisest, for so bright a dame, might well a sinner be. Let none speak ill of Pedro No Roderick hath he been ; He dearly loved fair Spain, although 'tis true he slew the Queen." VIII. The words he spake they all might hear, yet none vouchsafe reply, " God save great Henry save the King King Henry !" is the . cry; While Pedro's liegemen turn aside, their groans are in your ear, Whate'er to others he hath been, our friend lies slaughtered here !" IX. No paltry souls are wanting among King Pedro's band, That, now their King is dead, draw near to kiss his murderer's hand. The false cheek clothes it in a smile, and laughs the hollow e je> And wags the traitor tongue the while with flattery's ready lie. x. The valour of the King that is the justice of his cause The blindness and the tyrannies of him the King that ivas All all are doubled in their speech, yet truth enough is there To sink the spirit shivering near, in darkness of despair, S0 THE PROCLAMATION OF KING HENRY. XI. The Murder of the Master,* the tender Infants' f doom, And blessed Blanche's thread of life snapt short in dungeon's gloom, With tragedies yet unrevealed, that stained the King's abode, By lips his bounty should have sealed are blazoned black abroad, xn. Whom served he most at others' cost, most loud they rend the sky, " God save great Henry save our King King Henry !" is the cry. But still, amid too many foes, the grief is in your ear Of dead King Pedro's faithful few " Alas ! our Icrd lies here." XIII. But others' tears, and others' groans, what arc they matched with thine, Maria de Padilla- thou fatal concubine ! Because she is King Henry's slave, the damsel weepeth sore, Because she's Pedro's widowed love, alas! she weepeth more. XIV. " O Pedro ! Pedro !" hear her cry " how often did I say That wicked counsel and weak trust would haste thy l?fe away !" She stands upon her turret top, she looks down from on high, Where mantled in his bloody cloak she sees her lover lie. XV. Low lies King Pedro in his blood, while bending down ye see Caitiff,?, that trembled ere he spake, crouched at his murderer's knee ; They place the sceptre in his hand, and on his head the crown, And trumpets clear are blown, and bells are merry through the town. * The Master of the order of Saint lago. t Two younger brothers, [sons of hi-; father by Leonora de Guzman] who were taken olF by Don Pedro, when irritated by the first rebellion of Don Enrique of Trastainara. THE PROCLAMATION OF KING HENRY. 91 XVI. The sun shines bright, and the gay rout with clamours rend the sky, " God save great Henry save the King King Henry !" is the cry; But the pale Lady weeps above, with many a bitter tear, Whate'er he was, he was her love, and he lies slaughtered here. XVII. At first, in silence down her cheek the drops of sadness roll, But rage and anger come to break the sorrow of her soul ; The triumph of her haters the gladness of their cries, Enkindle names of ire and scorn within her tearful cyea XVIII. In her hot cheek the blood mounts high, as she stands gazing down, Now on proud Henry's royal state, his robe and golden crown, And now upon the trampled cloak that hides not from hex view The slaughtered Pedro's marble brow, and lips of livid hue. XIX. With furious grief she twists her hands among her long black hairs, And all from off her lovely brow the blameless locks she tears ; She tears the ringlets from her front, and scatters all the pearls King Pedro's hand had planted among the raven curls. u Stop, caitiff tongues !" they hear her not " King Pedro's love am I." They heed her not " God save the King great Henry !" still they cry. She rends her hair, she wrings her hands, but none to help is near, " God look in vengeance on thoir deed, my lord lies murdered here !" 92 THE PEOCLAMATION OF KING HENRY. XXI. Away she flings her garments, her broidered veil and vest, As if they should behold her love within her lovely breast As if to call upon her foes the constant heart to see, Where Pedro's form is still enshrined, and evermore shall be, XXII. But none on fair Maria looks, by none her breast is seen, Save angry Heaven remembering well the murder of the Queen, The wounds of jealous harlot rage, which virgin blood must stanch, And all the scorn that mingled in the bitter cup of Blanche. xxni. The utter coldness of neglect that haughty spirit stings, As if a thousand fiends were there, with all their flapping wings ; She wraps the veil about her head, as if 'twere all a dream The love the murder and the wrath and that rebellious scream ; XXIV. For still there's shouting on the plain, and spurring far and nigh, " God save the King Amen ! amen ! King Henry !" is the cry; While Pedro all alone is left, upon his bloody bier, Not one remains to cry to God, " Our lord lies murdered herel" 93 THE LORD OF BUTRAGO. [The Incident to which the following Ballad relates, is supposed to have occurred on the famous field of Aljubarrota, where King Juan the First of Castile was defeated by the Portuguese. The King, who was at the time in a feeble state of health, exposed himself very much during the action ; and being wounded, had great difficulty in making his escape, The battle was fought A.D. 1385.] " YOUR horse is faint, my King, my Lord, your gallant horse is sick, His limbs are torn, his breast is gored, on his eye the film is thick ; Mount, mount on mine, oh, mount apace,! pray thee mount andily ! Or in my arms I'll lift your grace their trampling hoofs are nigh. II. "My King, my King, you're wounded sore; the blood runs from your feet, But only lay a hand before, and I'll lift you to your seat : Mount, Juan, for they gather fast I hear their coming cry ; Mount, mount, and ride for jeopardy I'll save you though I die! in. " Stand, noble steed, this hour of need be gentle as a lamb ; I'll kiss the foam from off thy mouth thy master dear I am. Mount, Juan, mount, whate'er betide, away the bridle fling, And plunge the rowels in his side My horse shall save my King! IV. "Nay, never speak; my sires, Lord King, received their land from yours, And joyfully their blood shall spring, so be it thine secures : If I should fly, and thou, my King, be found among the dead, * How could I stand 'mong gentlemen, such scorn on my grey head ? 94 THE LOUD OF BUTBAGO. v. " Castile's proud dames shall never point the finger of disdain, And say there's ONE that ran away when our good lords were slain, I leave Diego in your care you'll fill his father's place : Strike, strike the spur, and never spare God's blessing ON your grace !" VI. So spake the brave Montafiez, Butrago's Lord was he ; And turned him to the coming host in steadfastness and gle-B ; He flung himself among them, as they came down the hill ; He died, God wot ! but not before his sword had drunk it? filL 95 THE KING OF ARRAGON. THE following little ballad represents the supposed feelings of Alphonso, King of Arragon, on surveying Naples, after he had at last obtained possession of that city, and driven Eene of Anjou* from the south of Italy. " The King of Arragon," says Mariana, " entered Naples as victor on the morning of Sunday, the second of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand, four hundred, and forty-two." The brother, whose death is represented as saddening the King's triumph, was Don Pedro of Arragon, who was killed " by the fourth rebound of a cannon-ball," very soon after the commencement of the siege of Naples. " When the King heard of these woeful tidings," says Mariana, "he hastened to the place where the body had been laid, and kissing the breast of the dead man, said, * Alas ! my brother, what different things had I expected of thee! God help thy soul!' And with that he wept and groaned, and then turning to his attendants, ' Alas,' said he, 'my comrades, we have lost this day the flower of all our chivalry.' Don Pedro died in the bloom of his youth, being just twenty-seven years old, and having never been married. He had been in many wars, and in all of them he had won honour." MARIANA, Book XXI. cap. 13. Who was the favourite boy, (Pagezico,) whose death the King also laments in the ballad, I have not been able to find. * Joanna II. Queen of Naples, left her crown by will to Rend of Anjou, who had thus a double claim to it, for he was the descendant of the ancient Angevine dynasty, founded by Charles of Anjou, brother to Louis IX. of France, in 1265, but he never possessed it. The city and kingdom were conquered by Alphonso V. King of Arragon. Rene* is well known to English readers as the father of Henry VI. 'a brave Queen Jtfttgzwfc, [Editor's Note.] 96 THE KING OF AEEAGON. ONE day, the King of Arragon, from the old citadel, Looked down upon the sea of Spain, as the billows rose and fell ; He looked on ship and galley, some coming and some going, With all their prize of merchandize, and all their streamers flowing. II. Some to Castile were sailing, and some to Barbary And then he looked on Naples, that great city of the sea : " O city !" saith the King, " how great hath been thy cost, For thee I twenty years, my fairest years, have lost ! ill. " By thee I have lost a brother ; never Hector was more brave ; High cavaliers have dropped their tears upon my brother's grave : Much treasure hast thou cost me, and a little boy beside, (Alas 1 thou woeful city !) for whom I would have died." THE VOW OF THE MOOR REDtfAN. THE marriage of Ferdinand the Catholic and Donna Isabella, having united the forces of Arragon and Castile, the total ruin of the Moorish power in Spain could no longer be deferred. The last considerable fragment of their once mighty possessions in the Peninsula, was Granada; but the fate of Malaga and Cadiz gave warning of its inevitable fall, while internal dissen- sions, and the weakness of King Boabdil, hastened and facilitated that great object of Ferdinand's ambition. . The following is a version of certain parts of two ballads ; indeed, the Moor Keduan is the hero of a great many more. The subject is, as the reader will perceive, the rash vow and tragical end of a young and gallant soldier, allied, as it would appear, to the blood of the last Moorish King of Granada, Boabdil, or, as he is more generally called by the Spanish writers, El rey Chiquito, i.e. The Little King. THUS said before his Lords the King to Reduan, " 'Tis easy to get words, deeds get we as we can ; Remember'st thou the feast at which I heard thee saying, Twere easy in one night to make me Lord of Jaen? H. 44 Well in my mind I hold the valiant vow was said; Fulfil ft, boy, and gold shall shower upon thy head ; But bid a long farewell, if now thou shrink from doing 1 , To bower and bonnibell, thy feasting, and thy wooing." H 98 THE VOW OF THE MOOR EEDUAN. in. " I have forgot the oath, if such I e'er did plight, But needs there plighted troth to make a soldier fight ? A thousand sabres bring, we'll see how we may thrive." "One thousand!" quoth the King; "I trow thou shalt have five." IV. They passed the Elvira gate,* with banners all displayed, They passed in mickle state, a noble cavalcade ; What proud and pawing horses, what comely cavaliers, What bravery of targets, what glittering of spears 1 v. What caftans blue and scarlet, what turbans pleached of green ; What waving of their crescents and plumages between ; What buskins and what stirrups, what rowels chased in gold, What handsome gentlemen, what buoyant hearts and bold ! VI. In midst, above them all, rides he who rules the band, Yon feather white and tall is the token of command. He looks to the Alhambra,j* whence bends his mother down ; " Now Alia save my boy, and merciful Mahoun !" VII. But 'twas another sight when Eeduan drew near To look upon the height where Jaen's towers appear ; The fosse was wide and deep, the walls both tall and strong, And keep was matched with keep the battlements along. vin. It was a heavy sight, but most for Eeduan ; He sighed, as well he might, ere thus his speech began,- *' O Jaen, had I known how high thy bulwarks stand, My tongue had not outgone the prowess of my hand. * One of the gates of Granada that looking towards Elvira * The famous Palace of the Moorish Kings of Granada, THE VOW OF THE MOOR REDUAN. 9.9 IX. u But since in hasty cneer I did my promise plight, (What well might cost a year) to win thee in a night, The pledge demands the paying. I would my soldiers brave Were half as sure of Jaen, as I am of my grave. x. " My penitence comes late, my death lags not behind ; I yield me up to fate, since hope I may not find." With that he tiirned him round ; " Now blow your trumpets high !" But every spearman frowned, and dark was every eye. XI. But when he was aware that they would fain retreat, He spurred his bright bay mare, I wot her pace was fleet ; He rides beneath the walls, and shakes aloft his lance, And to the Christians calls, if any will advance. XII. With that an arrow flew from o'er the battlement, Young Reduan it slew, sheer through the breast it went. He fell upon the green, " Farewell, my bonny bay !" Kight soon, when this was seen, broke all the Moor array. 100 THE FLIGHT FROM GRANADA. [The following ballad describes the final departure of the weak and unfortunate Boabdil from Granada. In point of fact, the Moorish King came out and received Ferdinand and Isabella in great form and pomp, at the gates of his lost city, pre- senting them with the keys on a cushion, and in abject terms entreating their protection for his person. The valley of Purchena, in Murcia, was assigned to him for his place of residence, and a handsome revenue provided for the maintenance of him and his family; but after a little while, "not having resolution," as Mariana expresses it, "to endure a private life in the country where he had so long reigned a King," he went over to Barbary.* The entrance of Ferdinand and Isabella into Granada took place on Friday the 6th of January, 1492.] THERE was crying in Granada when the sun was going down, Some calling on the Trinity, some calling on Mahoun ; Here passed away the Koran, there in the Cross was borne, And here was heard the Christian bell, and there the Moorish horn ; ii. Te Deum Laudamus was up the Alcala sung : Down from the Alhambra's minarets were all the crescents flung ; The arms thereon of Arragon they with Castile's display ; One king conies in in triumph, one weeping goes away. in. Thus cried the weeper, while his hands his old white beard did tear, " Farewell, farewell, Granada ! thou city without peer ; Woe, woe, thou prido of Heathendom, seven hundred years and more Have gone since first the faithful thy royal sceptre bore. * He took service under the King of Fez. and died fighting with tba* monarch's enemies. THE FLIGHT FROM GRANADA. 101 IV. " Thou wert the happy mother of an high renowned race ; Within thee dwelt a haughty line that now go from their place ; Within thee fearless knights did dwell, who fought with mickle glee The enemies of proud Castile, the bane of Christientie. v. " The mother of fair dames wert thou, of truth and beauty rare, Into whose arms did courteous knights for solace sweet repair ; For whose dear sakes the gallants of Afric made display Of might in joust and battle on many a bloody day : VI. " Here gallants held it little thing for ladies' sake to die, Or for the Prophet's honour, and pride of Soldanry; For here did valour flourish, and deeds of warlike might Ennobled lordly palaces, in which was our delight. VII. " The gardens of thy Vega,* its fields and blooming bowers Woe,woe ! I see their beauty gone, and scattered all their flowers. No reverence can he claim the King that such a land hath lost, On charger never can he ride, nor be heard among the host But in some dark and dismal place, where none his face may see, There weeping and lamenting, alone that King should be." VIII. Thus spake Granada's King as he was riding to the sea, About to cross Gibraltar's Strait away to Barbary : Thus he in heaviness of soul unto his Queen did cry. (He had stopped and ta'en her in his arms, for together they did %) IX. "Unhappy King! whose craven soul can brook" (she 'gan reply,) u To leave behind Granada, who hast not heart to die Now for the love I bore thy youth thee gladly could I slay, For what is life to leave when such a crown is cast away? 5 ' * The plain of Granada. 102 THE DEATH OF DON ALONZO OF AGUILAft. THE Catholic zeal of Ferdinand and Isabella was gratified by the external conversion at least of a great part of the Moors of Granada; but the inhabitants of the Sierra of Alpuxarra, a ridge of mountainous territory at no great distance from that city, resisted every argument of the priests who were sent among them, so that the royal order for Baptism was at last enforced by arms. These Moorish mountaineers resisted for a time, in several of their strongholds; but were at last subdued, and in great part extirpated. Among many severe losses sustained by the Spanish forces in the course of this hill warfare, none was more grievous than that recorded in the following ballad. Don Alonzo of Aguilar, was the elder brother of that Gonsalvo Hernandez y Cordova of Aguilar, who afterwards became so illustrious as to acquire the name of THE GREAT CAPTAIN. The circumstances of Don Alonzo's death are described some- what differently by the historians. (See in particular, Mariana, Book XXVII. chapter 6, where no mention is made of the Moors throwing down stones on him and his party, as in the ballad.) This tragic story has been rendered familiar to all English readers by the Bishop of Dromore's exquisite version of " Eio Verde, Kio Verde."* FERNANDO, King of Arragon, before Granada lies, With dukes and barons many a one, and champions of emprize j With all the captains of Castile that serve his lady's crown, He drives Boabdil from his gates, and plucks the crescent down. * See Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry. THE DEATH OF DON ALONZO OF AGUILAR. 103 ii. The cross is reared upon the towers, for our Redeemer's sake; The King assembles all his powers, his triumph to partake, Yet at the royal banquet, there's trouble in his eye " Now speak thy wish, it shall be done, great King," the lordlinga cry. in. Then spake Fernando, " Hear, grandees ! which of ye all will go, And give my banner in the breez3 of Alpuxar to blow ? Those heights along, the Moors are strong; HOAV \vho, by dawn of day, Will plant the cross their cliffs among, and drive the dogs away ?" IV. Then champion on champion high, and count on count doth look ; And faltering is the tongue of lord, and pale the cheek of duke ; Till starts up brave Alonzo, the knight of Aguilar, The lowmost at the royal board, but foremost still in war. v. And thus he speaks : " I pray, my lord, that none but I may go; For I made promise to the Queen, your consort, long ago, That ere the war should have an end, I, for her royal charms, And for my duty to her grace, would shew some feat of arms." VI. Much joyed the King these words to hear he bids Alonzo speed And long before their revel's o'er the knight is on his steed ; Alonzo's on his milk-white steed, with horsemen in liia train A thousand horse, a chosen band, ere dawn the hills to gain. 104- THE DEATH OF DON ALONZO OF AGU1LAR. VII. They ride along the darkling ways, they gallop all the night; They reach Nevada ere the cock hath harbingered the light, But ere they've climbed that steep ravine the east is gloAving red, And the Moors their lances bright have seen, and Christian banners spread. VIII. Beyond the sands, between the rocks, where the old cork-trees grow, . The path is rough, and mounted men must singly march and slow ; There, o'er the path, the heathen range their ambuscado's line, High up they wait for Aguilar, as the day begins to shine. IX. There nought avails the eagle-eye, the guardian of Castile, The eye of wisdom, nor the heart that fear might never feel, The arm of strength that wielded well the strong mace in the fray, Nor the broad plate, from whence the edge of falchion glanced away. Not knightly valour there avails, nor skill of horse and spear, For rock on rock comes rumbling down from cliiF and cavern drear ; Down down like driving hail they come, and horse and horse- men die, Like cattle whose despair is dumb when the fierce lightnings fly. XI. Alonzo, with a handful more, escapes into the field, There like a lion stands at bay, in vain besought to yield ; A thousand foes around are seen, but none draws near to light ; Afar with bolt and javelin they pierce the steadfast knight. THE DEATH OF DON ALONZO OF AGUILAU. 105 XII. A hundred and a hundred darts are hissing round his head ; Had Aguilar a thousand hearts, their blood had all been shed ; Faint and more faint he staggers, upon the slippery sod, At last his back is to the earth, he gives his soul to God. XIII. With that the Moors plucked up their hearts to gaze upon his face, And caitiffs mangled where he lay the scourge of Afric's race ; To woody Oxijera then the gallant corpse they drew, And there upon the village-green they laid him out to view. XIV. Upon the village-green he lay as the moon was shining clear, And all the village damsels to look on him drew near ; They stood around him all a-gaze, beside the big oak-tree, And much his beauty they did praise, though mangled sore w he. xv. Now, so it fell, a Christian dame that knew Alonzo well, Not far from Oxijera did as a captive dwell, And hearing all the marvels, across the woods came she, To look upon this Christian corpse, and wash it decently. XVI. She looked upon him, and she knew the face of Aguilar, Although his beauty was disgraced with many a ghastly scar ; She knew him, and she cursed the dogs that pierced him from afar, And mangled him when he was slain the Moors of Alpuxar. XVII. The Moorish maidens, while she spake, around her silence kept, But her master dragged the dame away then loud and long they wept ; They washed the blood, with many a tear, from dint of dart and arrow, And buried him near the waters clear of the brook of Al- puxarra. 106 v ] i; /*, 3f THE DEPARTURE OF KING SEBASTIAN. [The reader is acquainted with the melancholy story of Sebastian King of Portugal.* It was in 1578 that his unfortunate expedition and death took place. The following is a version of one of the Spanish ballads, founded on the history of Sebastian. There is another, which describes his death, almost in the words of a ballad already translated, concerning King Juan I. of Castile.] IT was a Lusitanian Lady, and she was lofty in degree, Was fairer none, nor nobler, in all the realm than she ; I saw her that her eyes were red, as, from her balcony, They wandered o'er the crowded shore and the resplendent sea. Gorgeous and gay, in Lisbon's Bay, with streamers flaunting wide, Upon the gleaming waters Sebastian's galleys ride, His valorous armada (was never nobler sight) Hath young Sebastian marshalled against the Moorish might. * It is just possible that the story of Sebastian (once well known to the general public through Miss Jane Porter's novel) may not be equally in the memory of all the present readers of the "Ballads." Sebastian, chivalrous and romantic, sailed for Africa with the flower of his nobility in 1578, to do battle on their own soil with the Moors. He was then only 23 years of age. A battle took place at Alcacer-el-Xebir, in which the young king displayed remarkable valour. He rushed into the midst of the Moorish ranks, where he disappeared, and is supposed to have been slain. So bravely did the Portuguese fight to rescue their sovereign that only fifty of the gallant army Sebastian had brought over survived that fatal battle. The mystery which surrounded the fate of the young king led to several claimants appearing, who professed to be Sebastian, escaped from Moorish thraldom. Over one of these, some- thing of the same doubt hovers, which attended on Perkiii Warbeck. The story of Sebastian has very recently (in 1 8GG) produced a very in- teresting work entitled, " Les faux Don Sebastien. Etude sur 1'histoire de Portugal, par Don Miguel d* Ant as," to which we refer our readers. [Editor's note.] THE DEPARTURE OF KING SEBASTIAN. 107 in. The breeze comes forth from the clear north, a gallant breeze there blows ; Their sails they lift, then out they drift, and first Sebastian goes. u May none withstand Sebastian's hand God shield my King I" she said; Yet pale was that fair Lady's cheek, her weeping eyes were red. IV. She looks on all the parting host, in all its pomp arrayed, Each pennon on the wind is tost, each cognizance displayed ; Each lordly galley flings abroad, above its armed prow, The banner of the Cross of God, upon the breeze to flow. V. But one there is, whose banner, above the Cross divine, A scarf upholds, with azure folds, of love and faith the sign : Upon that galley's stern you see a peerless warrior stand, Though first he goes, still back he throws his eye upon the land. VI. Albeit through tears she looks, yet well may she that form descry, Was never seen a vassal mien so noble and so high ; Albeit the Lady's cheek was pale, albeit her eyes were red, " May none withstand my true-love's hand! God bless my Knight !" she said. VII. There are a thousand Barons, all harnessed cap-a-pee, With helm and spear that glitter clear above the dark-green sea; No lack of gold or silver, to stamp each proud device On shield or surcoat nor of chains and jewellery of price. VIII. The seamen's cheers the Lady hears, and mingled voices come, From, every deck, of glad rebeck, of trumpet, and of drum ; " Who dare withstand Sebastian's hand? what Moor his gage may fling At young Sebastian's feet ?" she said. " The Lord hath blessed rny King," 108 MOORISH BALLADS. [It is sometimes very difficult to determine which of the Moorish Ballads ought to be included in the Historical, which in the Romantic class : and for this reason, the following five specimens are placed by themselves. Several Ballads, decidedly of Moorish origin, such as REDUAN'S Vow, THE FLIGHT FROM GRANADA, &c. have been printed in the preceding Section,] THE BULL-FIGHT OF GAZUL. [Gazul is the name of one of the Moorish heroes who figure in the .Historia delas Guerras Civ lies de Grenada,. The following Ballad, is one of very many in which the dexterity of the Moorish cavaliers in the Bull-fight, is described. The Reader will observe, that the shape, activity, and resolution of the unhappy animal, destined to furnish the amusement of the spectators, are enlarged upon, just as the qualities of a modern race-horse might be among ourselves : nor is the bull without his name.] I. KING ALMANZOR of Granada, he hath bid the trumpet sound, He had summoned all the Moorish Lords, from the hills and plains around ; From Vega and Sierra, from Betis and Xenil, They have come with helm and cuirass of gold and twisted steel. ir. 'Tis the holy Baptist's feast they hold in royalty and state,* And they have closed the spacious lists, beside the Alhambra's gate; In gowns of black with silver laced within the tented ring, Eight Moors to fight the bull are placed in presence of the King. * The day of the Baptist-is a festival among the Mussulmans, as well as among Christians. / THE BULL-FIGHT. 109 in. Eight Moorish lords of valour tried, with stalwart arm and true, The onset of the beasts abide, come trooping furious through ; The deeds they've done, the spoils they've won, fill all with hope and trust, Yet ere high in heaven appears the sun, they all have bit the dust. IV. Then sounds the trumpet clearly, then clangs the loud tambour, Make room, make room for Gazul throw wide, throw wide the door ; Blow, blow the trumpet clearer still, more loudly strike the drum, The Alcayde of Agalva to fight the bull doth come. v. And first before the King he passed, with reverence stooping low, And next he bowed him to the Queen, and the Infantas all a-rowe ; Then to his lady's grace he turned, and she to him did throw A scarf from out her balcony was whiter than the snow. VI. With the life-blopd of the slaughtered lords all slippery is the sand, Yet proudly in the centre hath Gazul ta'en his stand ; And ladies look with heaving breast, and lords with anxious eye, But the lance is firmly in its rest, and his look is calm and high. VII. Three bulls against the knight are loosed, and two como roar- ing on, He rises high in stirrup, forth stretching his rejuii ; Each furious beast upon the breast he deals him such a blow, He blindly totters and gives back across the sand to go. 110 THE BULL-FIGHT. VIII. " Turn, Gazul, turn," the people cry the third comes up behind, Low to the sand his head holds he, his nostrils snuff the wind ; The mountaineers that lead the steers, without stand whispering low, " Now thinks this proud Alcayde to stun Harpado so ?" IX. From Guadiana comes he not, he comes not from Xenil, From Guadalarif of the plain, or Barves of the hill ; But where from out the forest burst Xarama's waters clear, Beneath the oak trees was he nursed, this proud and stately steer. x. Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil, And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil. His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow ; But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe. Upon the forehead of the bull the horns stand close and near, From out the broad and wrinkled skull, like daggers they appear ; His neck is massy, like the trunk of some old knotted tree, Whereon the monster's shagged mane, like billows curled, ye see. XII. His legs are short, his hams are thick, his hoofs are black as night, Like a strong flail he holds his tail in fierceness of his might ; Like something molten out of iron, or hewn from forth the rock, Harpado of Xarawa stands, to bide the Alcayde's shock, XIII. Now stops the drum close, close they come -thrice meet, and thrice give back ; The white foam of Harpado lies on the charger's breast of black Hie white foam of the charger on Harpado's front of dun Once more advance upon his lance once more, thou fearless one ! THE BULL-FIGHT. Ill XIV. Once more, once more ; in dust and gore to ruin must tlion reel In vain, in vain thou tearest the sand wit! furious heel In vain, in vain, thou noble beast, I sogfl Rftee stagger, Now keen and cold thy neck must hold mf d^lcayde's dagger! xv. 9 They have slipped a noose around hi* feet, six horses are brought in, And away they drag Harpado with a loud and joyful din. Now stoop thee, lady, from thy stand, and the ring of price bestow Upon Gazul of Agalva, that hath laid Harpado low. 112 C 6GRrS BRIDE. [The reader cannot n0d to be reminded of the fatal effects whicn were produced by tl nhsistin^ between the two great families, or rather races, of tl > . /ugris and the Abencerrages of Granada. The following ballad is aU- roni the Guerras Civiles ] I. OF all the blood of Zegri, the chief is Lisaro, To wield rejon like him is none, or javelin to throw; From the place of his dominion, he ere the dawn doth go, From Alcala de Henares, he rides in weed of woe. H. He rides not now as he was wont, when ye have seen him speed To the field of gay Toledo, to fling his lusty reed ; No gambeson of silk is on, nor rich embroidery Of gold- wrought robe or turban nor jewelled tahali.* in. No amethyst nor garnet is shining on his brow, No crimson sleeve, which damsels weave at Tunis, decks him now; The belt is black, the hilt is dim, but the sheathed blade is bright ; They have housened his barb in a murky garb, but yet her hoofs are light. IV. Four horsemen good, of the Zegri blood, with Lisaro go out ; No flashing spear may tell them near, but yet their shafts are stout ; In darkness and in swiftness rides every armed knight, The foam on the rein ye may see it plain, but nothing else is white, * Scimitar, THE ZEGRPS BRIDE. 113 v. Young Lisaro, as on they go, his bonnet doffeth he, Between its folds a sprig it holds of a dark and glossy tree ; That sprig of bay, were it away, right heavy heart had he Fair Zayda to her Zegri gave that token privily. VI. And ever as they rode, he looked upon his lady's boon. " God knows," quoth he, -'what fate may be I may be slaughtered soon ; Thou still art mine, though scarce the sign of hope that bloomed whilere, But in my grave I yet shall have my Zayda's token dear." VII. Young Lisaro was musing so, when onwards on the path, He well could see them riding slow; then pricked he in hia wrath. The raging sire, the kinsmen of Zayda's hateful house, Fought well that day, yet in the fray the Zegri won his spouse. 114 THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA. [The following Ballad has been often imitated by modern poets, both in Spain and in Germany : Pon te a las rejas azules, dexa la manga que Libras, MelancLolica Xarifa, veras al galan Andalla, &c.] " RISE up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down ; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town. From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing, And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpet's lordly blowing, And banners bright from lattice light are waving everywhere, And the tall tall plume of our cousin's bridegroom floats proudly in the air : Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down ; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town. ii. " Arise, arise, Xarifa, I see Andalla's face, He bends him to the people with a calm and princely grace, Through all the land of Xeres and banks of Guadalquiver Rode forth Bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely never. Yon tall plume waving o'er his brow of azure mixed with white, I guess 'twas wreathed by Zara, whom he will wed to-night ; Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down ; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town. in. " What aileth thee, Xarifa, what makes thine eyes look down ? Why stay ye from the window far, nor gaze with all the Town ? I've heard you say on many a day, and sure you said the truth, Andalla rides without a peer, among all Granada's youth. Without a peer he rideth, and yon milk-white horse doth go Beneath his stately master, with a stately step and slow ; Then rise, oh rise, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down ; Unseen here through the lattice, you may gaze with all tht) Town." THE BRIDAL OF AND ALL A. 115 IV. The Zegri Lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down, Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the Town ; But though her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers strove, And though her needle pressed the silk, no flower Xarifa wove ; One bonny rose-bud she had traced, before the noise drew nigh That bonny bud a tear effaced, slow drooping from her eye. " No no," she sighs " bid me not rise, nor lay my cushion down, To gaze upon Andalla with all the gazing Town." v. " Why rise ye not, Xarifa, nor lay your cushion down ? Why gaze ye not, Xarifa, with all the gazing Town ? Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells, and how the people cry. He stops at Zara's palace-gate why sit ye still oh why ?" " At Zara's gate stops Zara's mate; in him shall I discover The dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and waa my lover ? I will not rise, with weary eyes, nor lay my cushion down, To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing Town." 116 ZARA'S EAR-RINGS. [I have taken the liberty to oinit, in translating this ballad, certain lines, in which mention is made of "the Mass" and "the Marquisses.' Depping considers these as the interpolations of a Spaniard unskilfully rendering a Moorish song.] " MY ear-rings ! my ear-rings ! v they've dropt into the well, And what to say to Mu9&,.I cannot, cannot tell." 'Twas thus Granada's fountain by, spoke Albuharez' daughter, " The well is deep, far down they lie, beneath the cold blue water To me did Mu9a give them, when he spake his sad farewell, And what to say when he comes back, alas ! I cannot tell. n. " My ear-rings ! my ear-rings ! they were pearls in silver set, That when my Moor was far away, I ne'er should him forget, That I ne'er to other tongue should list, nor smile on other's tale, But remember he my lips had kissed, pure as those ear-rings pale When he comes back, and hears that I have dropped them in the well, Oh what will Muc^i think of me, I cannot, cannot tell. HI. *' My ear-rings ! my ear-rings ! he'll say they should have been, Not of pearl and of silver, but of gold and glittering sheen, Of jasper and of onyx, and of diamond shining clear, Changing to the changing light, with radiance insincere That changeful mind unchanging gems are not befitting wc-ll Thus will he think and what to say, alas ! I cannot tell. ZARA'S EAR-RINGS. 117 IV. " He'll think when I to market went, I loitered by the way ; He'll think a willing ear I lent to all the lads might say ; He'll think some other lover's hand, among my tresses noosed, From the ears where he had placed them, my rings of pearl unloosed ; He'll think when I was sporting so beside this marble well, My pearls fell in, and what to say, alas ! I cannot tell. v. " He'll say I am a woman, and we are all the same ; He'll say I loved when he was here to whisper of his flame But when he went to Tunis my virgin troth had broken, And thought no more of Muga, and cared not for his token. My ear-rings! my ear-rings! oh! luckless, luckless well, For what to say to Mii9a, alas ! I cannot tell. VI. " I'll tell the truth to Muga, and I hope he will believe That I thought of him at morning, and thought of him at eve ; That musing on my lover, when down the sun was gone, His ear-rings in my hand I held, by the fountain all alone ; And that my mind was o'er the sea, wken from my hand they fell. And that deep his love lies in my heart, as they lie in the well." 118 THE LAMENTATION FOR THE DEATH OF CELTN. [This ballad, which celebrates the untimely fate of a Zegri cavalier, by name of Celin, or Selim, For la puerta de la vega, &c. consists, as it stands in the Romanccro, of many more stanzas than I have translated. But M. Depping points out sufficient evidence that some of them had been added in the time of Montemayor.] AT the gate of old Granada, when all its bolts are barred, At twilight at the Vega gate there is a trampling heard ; There is a trampling heard, as of horses treading slow, And a weeping voice of women, and a heavy sound of vvoe. " What tower is fallen, what star is set, what chief come these bewailing ?" " A tower is fallen, a star is set. Alas ! alas for Celin !" i II. Three times they knock, three times they cry, and wide the doors they throw ; Dejectedly they enter, and mournfully they go ; In gloomy lines they mustering stand beneath the hollow porch , Each horseman grasping in his hand a black and flaming torch j Wet is each eye as they go by, and all around is wailing, For all have heard the misery. " Alas ! alas for Celin 1" in. Him yesterday a Moor did slay of Bencerraje's blood, 'Twas at the solemn jousting, around the nobles stood ; The nobles of the. land were there, and the ladies bright and fair Looked from their latticed windows, the haughty sight to share ; But noAV the nobles all lament, the ladies are bewailing, For he was Granada's darling knight. " Alas! alas for Celin !" LAMENTATION FOR THE DEATH OF CELIN. 119 IV. Before him ride his vassals, in order two by two. With ashes on their turbans spread most pitiful to view ; Behind him his four sisters, each wrapped in sable veil, Between the tambour's dismal strokes take up their doleful tale; When stops the muffled drum, ye hear their brotherless bewailing, And all the people, far and near, cry " Alas! alas for Celin !" V. Oh lovely lies he on the bier above the purple pall, The flower of all Granada's youth, the loveliest of them all ; His dark, dark eyes are closed, his rosy lip is pale, The crust of blood lies black and dim upon his burnished mail, And evermore the hoarse tambour breaks in upon their wailing, Its sound is like no earthly sound " Alas! alas for Celin !" VI. The Moorish maid at the lattice stands, the Moor stands at his door, One maid is wringing of her hands, and one is weeping sore Down to the dust men bow their heads, and ashes black they strew Upon their broidered garments of crimson, green, and blue Before each gate the bier stands still, then bursts the loud bewailing, From door and lattice, high and low " Alas! alas for Celin !" VII. An old old woman cometh forth, when she hears the people cry; Her hair is white as silver, like horn her glazed eye. 'Twas she that nursed him at her breast, that nursed him long ago; She knows not whom they all lament, but soon she well shall know. With one deep shriek she through doth break, when her ears receive their wailing " Let me kiss my Celin ere I die Alas ! alas for Celin 1" 120 ROMANTIC BALLADS. THE MOOR CALAYNOS. [In the following version I have taken liberty to omit a good many of the introductory stanzas of the famous Coplas de Calainos. The readei will remember that this ballad is alluded to in Don Quixote, where the Knight's nocturnal visit to Toboso is described. It is generally believed to be among the most ancient, and certainly was among the most popular, of all the ballads in the Cancionero.] " I HAD six Moorish nurses, but the seventh was not a Moor, The Moors they gave me milk enow, but the Christian gave me lore; And she told me ne'er to listen, though sweet the words might be, Till he that spake had proved his troth, and pledged a gallant fee." IT. " Fair damsel," quoth Calaynos, " if thou wilt go with me, Say what may win thy favour, and thine that gift shall be. Fair stands the castle on the rock, the city in the vale, And bonny is the red red gold, and rich the silver pale." III. "Fair sir," quoth she, "virginity I never will lay down For gold, nor yet for silver, for castle, nor for town ; But I will be your leman for the heads of certain peers And I ask but three Rinaldo's Roland's and OlivierV'* THE MOOR CALAYNOS. 121 IV. He kissed her hand where she did stand, he kissed her lips also, And " Bring forth," he cries, " my pennon, tor to Paris I must go."- I wot ye saw them rearing his banner broad right soon, Whereon revealed his bloody field its pale and crescent moon. That broad banner e the Moore did rear, ere many days wore gone, In foul disdain of Charlemagne, by the church of good Saint John; In the midst of merry Paris, on the bonny banks of Seine,' Shall never scornful Paynim that pennon rear again. VI. His banner he hath planted high, and loud his trumpet blown, That all the twelve might hear it well around King Charles's throne ; The note he blew right well they knew ; both Paladin and Peer Had the trumpet heard of that stern lord in many a tierce crreer. VII. It chanced the King, that fair morning, to the chace had made him bowne, With many a knight of warlike might, and prince of high renown ; Sir Reynold of Montalban, and Claros' Lord, Gaston, Behind him rode, and Bertram good, that reverend old Baron. VIII. Black D' Ardennes' eye of mastery in that proud troop was seen, And there was Urgel's giant force, and (ahiarinos 1 princely mien ; Gallant and gay upon that day was Baldwin's youthful cheer, But first did ride, by Charles's side, Roland and Olivier. 122 THE MOOR CALAYNOS. Now in a ring around the King, not far in the greenwood, Awaiting all the huntsman's call, it chanced the nobles stood ; " Now list, mine earls, now list!" quoth Charles, "yon breeze will come again, Some trumpet-note methinks doth float from the bonny banks of Seine." He scarce had heard the trumpet, the word he scarce had said, When among the trees he near him sees a dark and turbaned head ; " Now stand, now stand at my command, bold Moor," quoth Charlemagne, " That turban green, how dare it be seen among the woods of Seine ?" XI. " My turban green must needs be seen among the woods of Seine," The Moor replied, " since here I ride in quest of Charle- magne Fcr I serve the Moor Calaynos, and I his defiance bring To every lord that sits at the board of Charlemagne your King. XII. " Now lordlings fair, if anywhere in the wood ye've seen him riding, tell /me plain the path he has ta'en there is no cause for chiding ; For my lord hath blown his trumpet by every gate of Paris Long hours in vain, by the bank of Seine, upon his steed he tarries." XIII. When the Emperor had heard the Moor, full red was his old cheek, u Go back, base cur, upon the spur, for I am he you seek (TO back, and tell your master to commend him to Mahoun, For his soul shall dwell with him in hell, or ere yon sun go down. THE MOOR CALAYNOS. 123 XIV. " Mine arm is weak, my hairs are grey," (thus spake King Charlemagne,) " Would for one hour I had the power of my young days again, As when I plucked the Saxon from out his mountain den soon should cease the vaunting of this proud Saracen ! xv. " Though now mine arm bo weakened, though now my hairs be grey, The hard- won praise of other days cannot be swept away - If shame there be, my liegemen, that shame on you must lie- Go forth, go forth, good Roland ; to-night this Moor must die." XVI. Then out and spake rough Roland " Ofttimes I've thinned the ranks Of the hot Moor, and when all was o'er have won me little thanks ; Some carpet knight will take delight to do this doughty feat, Whom damsels gay shall well repay with their smiles and whispers sweet !" XVII. Then out and spake Sir Baldwin the youngest peer was he, The youngest and the comeliest " Let none go forth but me ; Sir Roland is mine uncle, and he may in safety jeer, But I will shew the youngest may be Sir Roland's peer." XVIII. u Nay, go not thou," quoth Charlemagne, " thou art my gallant youth, And braver none I look upon ; but thy cheek it is too smooth ; And the curls upon thy forehead they are too glossy bright ; Some elder peer must couch his spear against this crafty knight." XIX. But away, away goes Baldwin, no words can stop him now, Behind him lies the greenwood, he hath gained the mountain's brow, He reineth first his charger, within the church-yard green, Where, striding slow the elms below, the haughty Moor is seen. 124 THE MOOR CALAYNOS. xx. Then out and spake Calaynos " Fair youth, I greet thee well; Thou art a comely stripling, and if thou with me wilt dwell, All for the grace of thy sweet face, thou shalt not lack thy fee, Within my lady's chamber a pretty page thou'lt be." XXI. An angry man was Baldwin, when thus lie heard him speak, " Proud knight," quoth he, " I come with thee a bloody spear to break." Oh, sternly smiled Calaynos, when thus he heard him say, loudly as he mounted his mailed barb did neigh. xxi r. One shout, one thrust, and in the dust young Baldwin lies full low No youthful knight could bear the might of that fierce warrior's blow ; Calaynos draws his falchion, and waves it to and fro, " Thy name now say, and for mercy pray, or to hell thy soul must go." XXIII. The helpless youth revealed the truth. Then said the conqueror 4i I spare thee for thy tender years, and for thy great valour ; But thou must rest thee captive here, and serve me on thy knee, For fain I'd tempt some doughtier peer to come and rescue thee." XXIV. Sir Roland heard that haughty word, (he stood behind the wall,) His heart, I trow, was heavy enow, when he saw his kinsman fall ; But now his heart was burning, and never a word he said, But clasped his buckler on his arm, his helmet on his head. Another sight saw the Moorish knight, when Roland blew his horn, To call him to the combat in anger and in scorn ; All cased in steel from head to heel, in the stirrup high he stood, The long spear quivered in his hand, as if athirst for blood. THE MOOR CALAYNOS. J25 XXVI. Then out and spake Calaynos " Th v name I fain would hear ; A coronet on thy helm is set ; I guess thou art a Peer." Sir Roland lifted up his horn, and blew another blast, " No words, base Moor," quoth Roland, " this hour shall be thy last." XXVII. I wot they met full swiftly, I wot the shock was rude ; Down fell the misbeliever, and o'er him Roland stood ; Close to his throat the steel he brought, and plucked his beard full sore " What devil brought thee hither ? speak out or die, false Moor !" XXVIII. " Oh ! I serve a noble damsel, a haughty maid of Spain, And in evil day I took my way, that I her grace might gain ; For every gift I offered, my lady did disdain, And craved the ears of certain Peers that ride with Charle- magne." XXIX. Then loudly laughed rough Roland " Full few will be her tears, It was not love her soul did move, when she bade thee beard THE PEERS." With that he smote upon his throat, and spurned his crest in twain, " No more," he cries, " this moon will rise above the woods oi Seine." 1.1 * ko THE ESCAPE OF GAYFEROS. [The story of Gayfer de Bourdeaux is to be found at great length in the Romantic Chronicle of Charlemagne ; and it has supplied the Spanish minstrels with subjects for a long series of ballads. In that which follows, Gayferos, yet a boy, is represented as hearing from his mother the circumstances of his father's death ; and as narrowly escaping with his own life, in consequence of his step-father's cruelty.] BEFORE her knee the boy did stand, within the dais so fair, The golden shears were in her hand, to clip his curled hair ; And ever as she clipped the curls, such doleful words she spake, That tears ran from Gayferos' eyes, for his sad mother's sake. n. " God grant a beard were on thy face, and strength thine arm within, To fling a spear, or swing a mace, like Roland Paladin ! For then, I think, thou wouldst avenge thy father that is dead, Whom envious traitors slaughtered within thy mother's bed. in. " Their bridal- gifts were rich and rare, that hate might not be seen; They cut me garments broad and fair none fairer hath the Queen." Then out and spake the little boy " Each night to God I call, And to his blessed Mother, to make me strong and tall !" IV. The Count he heard Gayferos, in the palace where he lay ; " Now silence, silence, Countess ! it is falsehood that you say; I neither slew the man, nor hired another's sword to slay ; But, for that the mother hath desired, be sure the son shall pay!"- THE ESCAPE OF &AYFERQ& 127 v. The Count called to his esquires, (old followers were they, Whom the dead Lord had nurtured for many a merry day) He bade them take their old Lord's heir, and stop his tender breath Alas ! 'twas piteous but to hear the manner of that death. VI. "List, esquires, list, for my command is offspring of mine oath The stirrup-foot and the hilt-ha^d see that ye sunder both; That ye cut out his eyes 'twere best the safer he will go And bring a finger and the heart, that 1 his end may know." VII. The esquires took the little boy aside with them to go ; Yet, as they went, they did repent " O, God ! must this be so? How shall we think to look for grace, if this poor child we slay, When ranged before Christ Jesu's face at the great judgment- day ?" VIII. While they, not knowing what to do, were standing in such talk, The Countess' little lap-dog bitch by chance did cross their walk; Then out and spake one of the 'squires, (you may hear the words he said,) " I think the coming of this bitch may serve us in good stead IX. 14 Let us take out the bitch's heart, and give it to Galvan ; The boy may with a finger part, and be no worser man." With that they cut the joint away, and whispered in his ear, That he must wander many a day, nor once those parts come near. X. " Your uncle grace and love will show ; he is a bounteous . man;" And so they let Gayferos go, and turned them to Galvan. The heart and the small finger upon the board they laid, And of Gayferos' slaughter a cunning story made. 128 THE ESCAPE OF GAYFEROS. The Countess, when she hears them, in great grief loudly cries: Meantime the stripling safely unto his uncle hies : ** Now welcome, my fair boy," he said, " what good news may they be Come with thee to thine uncle's hall ?" " Sad tidings come with me XII. " The false Galvan had laid his plan to have me in my grave ; Br.t I've escaped him, and am here, my boon from thee to crave: Rise up, rise up, mine uncle, thy brother's blood they've shed ; Rise up they've slain my father within my mother's bed.' 1 * * There is another ballad which represents Gayferos, now grown to be a man, as coming in the disguise of a pilgrim to his mother's house, and slaying his step-father with his own hand. The Countess is only satisfied A8 to his identity by the circumstance of the finger El dedo bien es aqueste, aqui lo vereys faltar La condesa que esto oyera empezole de abra^ar. JS9 MELISENDRA. THE following is a version of another of the ballads concerning Gayferos. It is the same that is quoted in the chapter of the Puppet-show in Don Quixote. " * Child, child/ said Don Quixote, ' go on directly with your story, and don't keep us here with your excursions and ramblings out of the road. I tell you there must be a formal process, and legal trial, to prove matters of fact.' ' Boy,' said the master from behind the show, i do as the gentleman bids you. Don't run so much upon flourishes, but follow your plain song, without venturing on counterpoints, for fear of spoiling all.' 1 1 will, sir/ quoth the boy, and so proceeding : l Now, sirs, he that you see there a-horseback, wrapt up in the Gascoign-cloak, is Don Gayferos himself, whom his wife, now revenged on the Moor for his impudence, seeing from the battlements of the tower, takes him for a stranger, and talks with him as such r according to the ballad, ' Quoth Melisendra, if perchance, Sir Traveller, you go for France, For pity's sake, ask when you're there, For Gayferos, my husband dear.' " ' I omit the rest, not to tire you with a long story. It is sufficient that he makes himself known to her, as you may guess by the joy she shows; and, accordingly, now see how she lets herself down from the balcony, to come at her loving husband, and get behind him ; but, unhappily, alas ! one of the skirts of her gown is caught upon one of the spikes of the balcony, and {here she hangs and hovers in the air miserably, without being able to get down. But see how Heaven is merciful, and sends relief in the greatest distress! Now Don Gayferos rides up to her, and, not fearing to tear her rich gown, lays hold on it, and at one pull brings her down ; and then at one lift sets her astride upon his horse's crupper, bidding her to sit fast, and clap her arms about him, that she might not fall; for the lady Melisendra was not used to that kind of riding. " * Observe now, gallants, how the horse neighs, and shews how proud he is of the burden of his brave master aivd fair K 130 MELI&MNDRA. mistress. Look, now, how they turn their backs, and leave the city, and gallop it merrily away towards Paris. Peace be with you, for a peerless couple of true lovers ! may ye get safe and sound into your own country, without any lett or ill chance in your journey, and live as long as Nestor, in peace and quietness among your friends and relations.' i Plainness, boy !' cried Master Peter, ' none of your flights, I beseech you, for affecta- tion is the devil.' -The boy answered nothing, but going on ; * Now, sirs,' quoth he, l some of those idle people, that love to pry into every thing, happened to spy Melisendra as she was making her escape, and ran presently and gave Marsilius notice of it ; whereupon he straight commanded to sound an alarm ; and now mind what a din and hurly-burly there is, and how the city shakes with the ring of the bells backwards in all the mosques!' ' There you are out, boy,' said Don Quixote : ' The Moors have no bells, they only use kettle-drums, and a kind of shaulms like our waits or hautboys ; so that your ringing of bells in Sansueiia is a mere absurdity, good Master Peter.' ' Nay, sir, said Master Peter, giving over ringing, ' if you stand upon these trifles with Us, we shall never please you. Don't be so severe a critic: Are there not a thousand plays that pass with great success and applause, though they have many greater absurdities, and nonsense in abundance ? On, boy, on, let there be as many impertinences as motes in the sun ; no matter, so I get the money.' 'Well said,' answered Don Quixote. 'And now, sirs,' quoth the boy, f observe what a vast company of glittering horse comes pouring out of the city, in pursuit of the Christian lovers ; what a dreadful sound of trumpets, and clarions, and drums, and kettle-drums there is in the air. I fear they will overtake them, and then will the poor wretches be dragged along most barbarously at the tails of their horses, which would be sad indeed." " Don Quixote, seeing such a number of Moors, and hearing such an alarm, thought it high time to assist the flying lovers; and starting up, ' It shall never be said while I live,' cried he aloud, ' that I suffered such a wrong to be done to so famous a knight and so daring a lover as Don Gayferos. Forbear, then, your unjust pursuit, ye base-born rascals ! Stop, or prepare to meet my furious resentment 1' Then drawing out his sword, to make good his threats, at one spring he gets to the show, and with a violent fury lays at the Moorish puppets, cutting and slashing in a most terrible manner: some he overthrows, and beheads others ; maims this, and cleaves that in pieces. Among MELISENDEA. 131 the rest of his merciless strokes, he thundered one down with such a mighty force, that had not Master Peter luckily ducked and squatted down, it had certainly chopped off his head as easily as one might cut an apple." AT Sansuena,* in the tower, fair Melisendra lies, Her heart is far away in France, and tears are in her eyes ; The twilight shade is thickening laid on Sansuelia's plain, Yet wistfully the. lady her weary eyes doth strain. II. She gazes from the dungeon strong, forth on the road to Paris, Weeping, and wondering why so long her Lord Gayferos tarries, When lo ! a knight appears in view a knight of Christian mien, Upon a milk-white charger he rides the elms between. in. She from her window reaches forth her hand a sign to make, " O if you be a knight of worth, draw near for mercy's sake ; For mercy and sweet charity, draw near, Sir Knight to me, And tell me if ye ride to France, or whither bowne ye be. IV. <: 0, if ye be a Christian knight, and if to France you go, I pr'ythee tell Gayferos that you have seen my woe ; r lhat you have seen me weeping, here in the Moorish tower, VVhile he is gay by night and day, in hall and lady's bower. v. " Seven summers have I waited, seven winters long are spent, Yet word of comfort none he speaks, nor token hath he sent ; And if he is weary of my love, and would have me wed a stranger, Still say his love is true to him nor time nor wrong can change her," * Sansuena is the ancient name of Zaragoza. K 2 132 MELISENDRA. VI. The knight on stirrup rising, bids her wipe her tears away, " My love, no time for weeping, no peril save delay Come, boldly spring, and lightly leap no listening Moor is near us, And by dawn of day we'll be far away" so spake the Knight Gayferos. VII. She hath made the sign of the Cross divine, and an Ave she hath said, And she dares the leap both wide and deep that damsel without dread ; And he hath kissed her pale pale cheek, and lifted her behind, Saint Denis speed the milk-white steed no Moor their path shall find. 133 LADY ALDA'S DREAM. [The following is au attempt to render one of the most admired of alJ the Spanish ballads. En Paris esta Dona Alda, la esposa de Don Koldan, Trecientas damas con ella, para la accompafiar, Todas visten un vestido, todas ca^an un ca^ar, &c. In its whole structure and strain it bears a very remarkable resemblance to several of our own old ballads both English and Scottish.] IN Paris sits the lady that shall be Sir KolancTs bride, Three hundred damsels with her, her bidding to abide ; All clothed in the same fashion, both the mantle and the shoon, All eating at one table, within her hall at noon : All, save the Lady Alda, she is lady of them all, She keeps her place upon the dais, and they serve her in her hall ; The thread of gold a hundred spin, the lawn a hundred weave, And a hundred play sweet melody within Alda's bower at eve. II. With the sound of their sweet playing, the lady falls asleep, And she dreams a doleful dream, and her damsels hear her weep; There is sorrow in her slumber, and she waketh with a cry, And she calleth for her damsels, and swiftly they come nigh. " Now, what is it, Lady Alda, "(you may hear the words they say,) " Bringeth sorrow to thy pillow, and chaseth sleep away ?" " O, my maidens !" quoth the lady, " my heart it is full sore ! I have dreamt a dream of evil, and can slumber never more. in. " For I was upon a mountain, in a bare and desert place, And I saw a mighty eagle, and a falcon he did chase ; And to me the falcon came, and I hid it in my breast, , But the mighty bird, pursuing, came and rent away my vest; And he scattered all the feathers, and blood was on his beak, And ever, as he tore and tore, I heard the falcon shriek : Now read my vision, damsels, now read my dream to me, For my heart may well be heavy that doleful sight to see." 134 LADY ALDA'S DREAM. IV. Out spake the foremost damsel was in her chamber there (You may hear the words she says,) " Oh ! my lady's dream is fair The mountain is St. Denis' choir ; and thou the falcon art, And the eagle strong that teareth the garment from thy heart, And scattereth the feathers, he is the Paladin That, when again he comes from Spain, must sleep thy bower within ; Then be blythe of cheer, my lady, for the dream thou must not grieve, It means but that thy bridegroom shall come to thee at eve." v. " If thou hast read my vision, and read it cunningly" Thus said the Lady Alda, " thou shalt not lack thy fee." But wo is me for Alda ! there was heard, at morning hour, A voice of lamentation within that lady's bower ; For there had come to Paris a messenger by night, And his horse it was a- weary, and his visage it was white ; And there's weeping in the chamber, and there's silence in the hall, For Sir Roland has been slaughtered in the chase of Roncesval. 135 THE ADMIRAL GUARINOS. [This is a translation of the Ballad which Don Quixote and Simcho Panza, when at Toboso, overheard a peasant singing, as he was going to his work at daybreak. " Tba cantando," says Cervantes, " aquel romance que dice, Mala la vistes Franceses la caca de Roncesyalles."] THE day of Roncesvalles was a dismal day for you, Ye men of France, for there the lance of King Charles was broke in two. Ye well may curse that rueful field, for many a noble peer, In fray or fight, the dust did bite, beneath Bernardo's spear. ii. There captured was Guarinos, King Charles's admiral ; Seven Moorish kings surrounded him, and seized him for their thrall ; Seven times, when all the chace Avas o'er, for Guarinos lots they cast ; Seven times Marlotes won the throw, and the knight was his at last. HI. Much joy had then Marlotes, and his captive much did prize, Above all the wealth of Araby, he was precious in his eyes. Within his tent at evening he made the best of cheer, And thus, the banquet done, he spake unto his prisoner. iv. t " Now, for the sake of Alia, Lord Admiral Guarinos, Be thou a Moslem, and much love shall ever rest between us. Two daughters have I all the day thy handmaid one shall be, The other (and the fairer far) by night shall cherish thee. 186 THE ADMIUAL GUAMIN08. v. " The one shall be thy waiting-maid, thy weary feet to lave, To scatter perfumes on thy head, and fetch thee garments brave; The other she the pretty shall deck her bridal-bower, And my field and my city they both shall be her dower. VI. " If more thou wishest, more I'll give speak boldly what thy thought is." Thus earnestly and kindly to Guarinos said Marlotes ; But not a moment did he take to ponder or to pause, Thus clear and quick the answer of the Christian Captain was : VII. 11 Now, God forbid! Marlotes, and Mary, his dear mother, That I should leave the faith of Christ, and bind me to another. For women I've one wife in France, and I'll wed no more iu Spain ; I change not faith, I break not vow, for courtesy or gain." VIII. Wroth waxed King Marlotes, when thus he heard him say, And all for ire commanded, he should be led away ; Away unto the dungeon-keep, beneath its vault to lie, With fetters bound in darkness deep, far off from sun and sky. IX. With iron bands they bound his hands. That sore unworthy plight Might well express his helplessness, doomed never more to fight. Again, from cincture down to knee, long bolts of iron he bore, Which signified the knight should ride on charger never more. x. Three times alone, in all the year, it is the captive's doom, To see God's daylight bright and clear, instead of dungeon- gloom ; Three times alone they bring him out, like Samson long ago, Before the Moorish rabble-rout to be a sport and show. THE ADMIRAL GUARINOS. 137 XI. On three high feasts they bring him forth, a spectacle to be, The feast of Basque, and the great day of the Nativity, And on that inorn, more solemn yet, when the maidens strip the bowers, And gladden mosque and minaret with the first fruits of the flowers. XII. Days come and go of gloom and show. Seven years are come and gone, And now doth fall the festival of the holy Baptist John ; Christian and Moslem tilts and jousts, to give it homage due ; And rushes on the paths to spread they force the sulky Jew. XIII. Marlotes, in his joy and pride, a target high doth rear, Below the Moorish knights must ride and pierce it with the spear ; But 'tis so high up in the sky, albeit much they strain, No Moorish lance so far may fly, Marlotes' prize to gain. XIV. Wroth waxM King Marlotes, when he beheld them fail, The whisker trembled on his lip, and his cheek for ire was pale ; And heralds proclamation made, with trumpets, through the town, " Nor child shall suck, nor man shall eat, till the mark be tumbled down." xv. The cry of proclamation, and the trumpet's haughty sound, Did send an echo to the vault where the admiral was bound. " Now, help me God !' 7 the captive cries, " what means this din so loud ? O, Queen of Heaven ! be vengeance given on these thy haters proud ! XVI. " ! is it that some Pagan gay doth Marlotes' daughter wed, And that they bear my scorned fair in triumph to his bed ? Or is it that the day is come one of the hateful three, When they, with trumpet, fife, and drum, make heathen game of me ?" 138 THE ADMIRAL GUARINOS. XVII. These words the jailer chanced to hear, and thus to him he said, " These tabors, Lord, and trumpets clear, conduct no bride to bed; Nor has the feast come round again, when he that has the right, Commands thee forth, thou foe of Spain, to glad the people's sight. xvm. " This is the joyful morning of John the Baptist's day, When Moor and Christian feasts at home, each in his nation's way; But now our King commands that none his banquet shall begin, Until some knight, by strength or sleight, the spearman's prize do win." XIX. Then out and spake Guarinos, " ! soon each man should feed, Were I but mounted once again on my own gallant steed. O ! were I mounted as of old, and harnessed cap-a-pee, Full soon Marlotes' prize I'd hold, whate'er its price may' be. " Give me my horse, mine old grey horse, so be he is not dead, All gallantly caparisoned, with plate on breast and head. And give the lance I brought from France, and if I win it not, My life shall be the forfeiture I'll yield it on the spot." XXI. The jailer wondered at his words. Thus to the knight said he, " Seven weary years of chains and gloom have little humbled thee ; There's never a man in Spain, I trow, the like so well might bear ; An' if thou wilt, I with thy vow will to the King repair." The jailer put his mantle on, and came unto the King, He found him sitting on the throne, within his listed ring ; Close to his ear he planted him, and the story did begin, How bold Guarinos vaunted him the spearman's prize to win. THE ADMIRAL GUARINOS. 139 That, were he mounted but once more on his own gallant grey, And armed with the lance he bore on the Roncesvalles' day, What never Moorish knight could pierce, he would pierce it at a blow, Or give with joy his life-blood fierce, at Marlotes' feet to flow. XXIV. Much marvelling, then said the King, " Bring Sir Guarinoa forth, And in the Grange go seek ye for his grey steed of worth His arms are rusty on the wall seven years have gone, I judge, Since that strong horse has bent his force to be a carrion drudge. XXV. " Now this will be a sight indeed, to see the enfeebled lord Essay to mount that ragged steed, and draw that rusty sword ; And for the vaunting of his phrase he well deserves to die, So, jailer, gird his harness on, and bring your champion nigh." XXVI. They have girded on his shirt of mail, his cuisses well they've clasped, And they've barred the helm on his visage pale, and his hand the lance hath grasped, And they have caught the old grey horse, the horse he loved of yore, And he stands pawing at the gate caparisoned once more. XXVII. When the knight came out the Moors did shout, and loudly laughed the King, For the horse he pranced and capered, and furiously did fling; But Guarinos whispered in his ear, and looked into his face, Then stood the old charger like a lamb, with a calm and gentll grace. 140 THE ADMIRAL GUAEINOS. XXVIII. Oh ! lightly did Guarinos vault into the saddle-tree, And slowly riding down made halt before Marlotes' knee ; Again the heathen laughed aloud u All hail, sir knight," quoth he, " Now do thy best, thou champion proud. Thy blood I look to see ** XXIX. With that Guarinos, lance in rest, against the scoffer rode, Pierced at one thrust his envious breast, and down his turban trode. Now ride, now ride, Guarinos nor lance nor rowel spare Slay, slay, and gallop for thy life. The land of France lies there I 141 THE LADY OF THE TREE. [The following is one of the few old Spanish ballads in which mention is made of the Fairies. The sleeping child's being taken away from the arms of the nurse, is a circumstance quite in accordance with our own tales of Fairyland ; but the seven years' enchantment in the tree reminds us more of those oriental fictions, the influence of which has stamped so many indelible traces on all the imaginative literature of Spain.] THE knight had hunted long, and twilight closed the day, His hounds were weak and weary, his hawk had flown away He stopped beneath an oak, an old and mighty tree, Then out the maiden spoke, and a comely maid was she. II. The knight 'gan lift his eye, the shady boughs between ; She had her seat on high, among the oak-leaves green ; Her golden curls lay clustering above her breast of snow ; But when the breeze was westering, upon it they did flow. in. " O, fear not, gentle knight; there is no cause for fear ; I am a good king's daughter, long years enchanted here ; Seven cruel fairies found me they charmed a sleeping child ; Seven years their charm hath bound me, a damsel undefiled. IV. " Seven weary years are gone since over me charms they threw ; I have dwelt here alone I have seen none but you. My seven sad years are spent ; for Christ that died on rood, Thou noble Knight, consent, and lead me from the wood ! v. " ! bring me forth again from out this darksome place 1 I dare not sleep for terror of the unholy race. 0, take me, gentle sir ! I'll be a wife to thee I'll be thy lowly leman, if wife I may not be." U2 TEE LADY OF THE THEE. VI. " Till dawns the morning, wait, thou lovely lady, here ; I'll ask my mother straight, for her reproof I fear." " 0, ill beseems thee, knight !" said she, that maid forlorn, " The blood of kings to slight a lady's tears to scorn." VII. He came when morning broke, to fetch the maid way, But could not find the oak wherein she made her stay ; All through the wilderness he sought in bower and tree- Fair lordlings, will ye guess what weary heart had he. VIII. There came a sound of voices from up the forest glen, The King had come to find her with all his gentlemen ; They rode in mickle glee a joyous cavalcade Fair in the midst rode she, but never word she said. IX. Though on the green he knelt, no look on him she cast His hand was on the hilt ere all the train were past. " shame to knightly blood ! O scorn to chivalry ! I'll die within the wood ! No eye my death shall see '" 113 THE FALSE QUEEN. [The following is a version of the ballad, A tan alta va la Luna Como el sol en media dia. It is in the Cancionero of Antwerp. Mr. Depping, the German collector, supposes the '* German Lord, " (Conde Aleman) to be the famous Baldwin, nephew to the Marquis of Mantua now perhaps best known to the English reader from the many allusions to his tragical death in Don Quixote.] UP on high the moon was riding, High as the sun in blaze of day, When, within her chamber hiding, With the Queen the Conde lay. . No one knows it, knight or lady, In the good King's court that dwelletli, Save but one, the pale Infanta ; She to none her sorrow telleth. Oat and spake the blushing mother, To the maiden wan and weeping, " Daughter, thou rny shame wilt cover; Lo ! my life is in thy keeping ! " Child, my German lord hath gold, Gold and pearl he'll give to thee ; Gowns and mantles manifold, Blazoned with embroidery." " May an evil fire consume them !" Out and spake the damosel ; " There's a false man in thy chamber. While my father loves thee well.' 144 THE AVENGING CHILDE. [The ballad of the Infante Vengador is proved to be of very high antiquity by certain particulars in its language. The circumstance of the tiled floor, and some others of the same sort, will not escape the notice of the antiquarian reader.] ! hurrah ! avoid the way of the Avenging Childe ; His horse is swift as sands that drift an Arab of the wild ; His gown is twisted round his arm a ghastly cheek he weara : And in his hand, for deadly harm, a hunting knife he bears. n. Avoid that knife in battle-strife, that weapon short and thin ; The dragon's gore hath bathed it o'er, seven times 'twas steeped therein ; Seven times the smith hath proved its pith, it cuts a coulter through In France the blade was fashioned, from Spain the shaft it drew. in. He sharpens it, as he doth ride, upon his saddle bow, He sharpens it on either side, he makes the steel to glow. He rides to find Don Quadros, that false and faitour knight, His glance of ire is hot as fire, although his cheek be white. IV. He found him standing by the King within the judgment-hall ; He rushed within the Barons' ring he stood before them all. Seven times he gazed and pondered, if he the deed should do, ^ight times distraught he looked and thought, then out his dagger flew. V. He stabbed therewith at Quadros the King did step between, It pierced his royal garment of purple wove with green ; He fell beneath the canopy, upon the tiles he lay. u Thou traitor keen, what dost them mean ? thy King \vliy wouldst thou slay ?" THE AVENGING CEILDE. 145 VI. " Now, pardon, pardon," cried the Childe, " I stabbed not, King, at thee, But him, that caitiff, blood- defiled, who stood beside thy knee ; Eight brothers were we in the land might none more loving be They all are slain by Quadros' hand they are all dead but me. VII. " Good King, I fain would wash the stciiri for vengeance is my . <*y; This murderer with sword and spear to battle I defy." But all took part with Quadros, except one lovely May, Except the King's fair daughter, none word for him would say. VIII. She took their hands, she led them forth into the court below; She bade the ring be guarded ; she bade the trumpet blow ; From lofty place, for that stern race, the signal she did throw " With truth and right the Lord will fight together let them go." IX. The one is up, the other down, the hunter's knife is bare; It cuts the lace beneath the face, it cuts through beard and hair; Eight soon that knife hath quenched his life the head is sundered sheer ; Then gladsome smiled the Avenging Childe, and fixed it on his spear. x. But when the King beholds him bring that token of his truth, Nor scorn nor wrath his bosom hath " Kneel down, thou noble youth ; Kneel down, kneel down, and kiss my crown, I am no more thy foe ; My daughter now may pay the vow she plighted long ago." 146 COUNT ARNALDOS. [This ballad is in the Cancionero of Antwerp, 1 555. I should be inclined to suppose that more is meant than meets the ear, c 4hat some religious allegory is intended to be shadowed forth.] WHO had ever such adventure, Holy priest, or virgin nun, As befel the Count Arnaldos At the rising of the sun ? ii. On his wrist the hawk was hooded, Forth with horn and hound went he, When he saw a stately galley Sailing on the silent sea. in. Sail of satin, mast of cedar, Burnished poop of beaten gold Many a morn you'll hood your falcon Ere you such a bark behold. IV. Sails of satin, masts of cedar, Golden poops may come again, But mortal ear no more shall listen To yon grey- haired sailor's strain. v. r Heart may beat, and eye may glisten, Faith is strong, and Hope is free, But mortal ear no more shall listen To the song that i ules the sea. COUNT ARNALDOS. 147 VI. When the grey-haired sailor chanted, Every wind was hushed to sleep Like a virgin's bosom panted All the wide reposing deep. VII. Bright in beauty rose the star-fish From her green cave down below, Right above the eagle poised him Holy music charmed them so. ' VIII. " Stately galley ! glorious galley ! God hath poured his grace on thee ! Thou alone mayst scorn the perils Of the dread devouring sea I IX. " False Almeria's reefs and shallows, Black Gibraltar's giant rocks, Sound and sand-bank, gulf and whirlpool, All my glorious galley mocks !" x. " For the sake of God, our maker !" (Count Arnaldos' cry was strong,) ** Old man, let me be partaker In the secret of thy song !" XI. " Count Arnaldos ! Count Arnaldos ! Hearts I read, and thoughts I know Wouldst thou learn "Hig ocean secret, In our galley thou L 2 148 SONG FOR THE MORNING OF THE DAY OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST. THE Marquis du Palmy said, many years ago, in his ingenious Essay, " Stir la vie privee des Francois," "Les feux de la Saint Jean fondes sur ce qu'on lit dans le Nouveau Testament,* que les nations se rejouiront a la Naissance de Saint Jean, sont presque eteintes par tout." Both in the northern and the southern parts of Europe, there prevailed of old a superstitious custom, of which the traces pro- bably linger to this day, in many simple districts. The young women rose on this sacred morning -ere the sun was up, and collected garlands of flowers, which they bound upon their heads ; and according as the dew remained upon these a longer or a shorter time, they augured more or less favourably of the future constancy of their lovers. That the day of the Baptist was a great festival among the Spanish Moors, the reader may gather from many passages in the foregoing Ballads, particularly that of THE ADMIRAL GUARINOS. There are two in the Cancionero which show, that some part at least of the amorous superstitions of the day were also shared by them. The one of them begins, La mafiaua de San Juan, salen a coger guirnaldas. Zara muger del Key Ohico, con sus mas queridas damas, &c. The other, La manana de Sant Juan, a punta que alboreava, Gran fiesta hazen los Moros por la vega de Granada, Rebolviendo sus cavallos, y jugando con las lanzas Ricos pendones en ellas, labrados por las amadas, * * * * -;: * * El moro que amores tiene, senates deltas monstrava, Y el que amiga no tenia, alii no escaramufava, &c. The following ssong is one that was used to be sung by the Spanish country-girls, as they went out to gather their dew and * Thou shalt have joy and gladness, and many shall rejoice at bis birth. -St. Luke, chap. i. ver. 14. SONG FOR THE MORNING OF ST. JOHN. 149 their flowers, on St. John's day in the morning. There are many of the same kind ; such as that beginning And that other, Este dia de San Juan Ay de mi ! Que no solia ser ansi ! &c. Vo no me porne guirnalda La man an a de San Juan Pues mis amores se van, &e. COME forth, come forth, my maidens,'tis the day of good St. John, It is the Baptist's morning that breaks the hills upon, And let us all go forth together, while the blessed day is new, To dress with flowers the snow-white wether, ere the sun has dried the dew. Come forth, come forth, c. Come forth, come forth, my maidens, the woodlands all are green, And the little birds are singing the opening leaves between, And let us all go forth together, to gather trefoil by the stream, Ere the face of Guadalquiver glows beneath the strengthening beam. Come forth, come forth, &c. Come forth, come forth, my maidens, and slumber not away The blessed blessed morning of the holy Baptist's day ; There's trefoil on the meadow, and lilies on the lee, And hawthorn blossoms on the bush, which you must pluck with me. Come forth, come forth, &c. Come forth, come forth, my maidens, the air is calm and cool, And the violet blue far down ye'll view, reflected in the pool ; The violets and the roses, and the jasmines all together, We'll bind in garlands on the brow of the strong and lovely wether. Come forth, come forth, &c. 150 SONG FOR THE MORNING OF ST. JOHN. Come forth, come forth, my maidens, we'll gather myrtle boughs, And we all shall learn from the dews of the fern, if cur lads will keep their vows. If the wether be still,* as we dance on the hill, and the dew hangs sweet on the flowers, Then we'll kiss off the dew, for our lovers are true, and the Baptist's blessing is ours. Come forth, come forth, my maidens, 'tis the day of good St. John, It is the Baptist's morning that breaks the hills upon ; And let us all go forth together, while the blessed clay is new, To dress with flowers the snow-white wether, ere the sun has dried the dew. . * "They enclose the wether in a hut of heath," says Depping, <% ' and if he remains quiet while the girl sings, all is well ; but if he puts his lorns through the frail wall or door, then the lover is false-hearted." 151 JULIANA. [The following ballad is inserted in this place on account of an allusiot. it contains to the ancient custom which forms the subject of the pre- ceding one. It seems to represent the frenzy of a Spanish knight, who has gone mad, in consequence of his mistress having been carried off in the course of a Moorish foray. Arriba ! canes, arriba ! que rabia mala os mate, En jueves matays el puerco, y en viernes comeys la came, &c.] I. "OFF! off! ye hounds! in madness an ill death be your doom ! The boar ye killed on Thursday on Friday ye consume ! Aye me ! and it is now seven years I in this valley go ; Barefoot I wander, and the blood from out my nails doth flow. " I eat the raw flesh of the boar, I drink his red blood here, Seeking, with heavy heart and sore, my Princess and my dear. 'Twas on the Baptist's morning the Moors my Princess found, While she was gathering roses upon her father's ground." in. Fair Juliana heard his voice where by the Moor she lay, Even in the Moor's encircling arms she heard what he did say; The lady listened, and she wept within that guarded place, While her Moor Lord beside her slept the tears fell on his face. 152 THE SONG OF THE GALLEY. [This is from a song in the Cancionero of Valencia, 1511, Galeristas de Espana Parad los remos, &c.] " YE mariners of Spain, Bend strongly oh your oars, Ana bring my love again, For he lies anionff the Moors. II. " Ye galleys fairly built, Like castles on the sea, O great will be your guilt, If ye bring him not to me. in. " The wind is blowing strong, The breeze will aid your oars ; O swiftly fly along, For he lies among the Moors. IV. " The sweet breeze of the sea Cools every cheek but mine ; Hot is its breath to me, As I gaze upon the brine. v. " Lift up, lift up your sail, And bend upon your oars ; O lose not the fair gale, For he lies among the Moors. THE SONG OF THE GALLEY. VI. 11 It is a narrow strait, I see the blue bills over ; Your coming I'll await, And thank you for my lover. Til. " To Mary I will pray, While ye bend upon your oars ; 'Twill be a blessed day, If ye fetch him from the Moors." 154 THE WANDERING KNIGHT'S SONG. [In the Caiicionero of Antwerp, J555. Mis arreos son las armas Mi descanso el pelear.] " MY ornaments are arms, My pastime is in war, My bed is cold upon the wold, My lamp yon star : ii. " My journey ings are long, My slumbers short and broken ; From hill to hill I wander still, Kissing thy token. in. " I ride from land to land, I sail from sea to sea ; Some day more kind I fate may find, Some night kiss thee." 15.5 MTNGUILLO. [Fiom the collection of Juan de Linares, entitled Flor de Enamorados. Pues por besarte Minguillo Me rine mi madre a mi. Vuelveme presto, carillo Aquel beso quo te di, &c/J SINCE for kissing tliee, Minguillo, My mother scolds me all the day, Let me have it quickly, darling ; Give me back my kiss, I pray. II. If we have done aught, amiss, Let's undo it while we may, Quickly give me back the kiss, That she may have nought to say. in. Do she keeps so great a pother, Chides so sharply, looks so grave ; Do, my love, to please my mother,- Give me back the kiss I gave. iv. Out upon you, false Minguillo ! One you give, but two you take ; Give me back the two, my darling, Give them, for my mother's sake! 156 SERENADE. [From the Romancero General of 1 004. Mientras duerme mi nina, &c/J WHILE my lady sleepeth, The dark blue heaven is bright, Soft the moonbeam creepeth Bound her bower all iright. Thou gentle, gentle breeze, While my lady slumbers, Waft lightly through the trees Echoes of my numbers, Her dreaming ear to please. II. Should ye, breathing numbers That for her I weave, Should ye break her slumbers, All my soul would grieve. llise on the gentle breeze, And gain her lattice' height O'er yon poplar trees, But be your echoes light As hum of distant bees. in. All the stars are glowing In the gorgeous sky, In the stream scarce flowing Mimic lustres lie : Blow, gentle, gentle breeze, But bring no cloud to hide Their dear resplendencies ; Nor chase from Zara's side Dreams bright and pure as these. 157 MINGUELA'S CHIDING. [From the Romancero General of 1604. Bino con Jnanilla Su liermana Minguela Palabras le dice Que mucho le duel an, Ac.] I. HER sister Minguela Thus chid Juanilla, The words that she said Brought no peace to her pillow. II. " Heretofore you went gadding As gay as the rest, Your new mantle clad ia } And fine crimson vest. in. " But now you sit moping, You look and you stare, Sighing over your needle, As if no one was there. IV. " When beside you I'm lying, I cannot get sleeping ; When you give over sighing, I'm sure that you're weeping. v. When one loves, I've been told, It is sighing that shows it ; How our mother will scold At us both, if she knows it ! * 168 MINGUELA'S CHIDING. VI. " She will close all the windows, And bolt every door ; When the fiddles are playing, We shall join them no more. VII. 44 The old nurse will attend, When we go to the mass ; What an eye she will bend On whoever may pass ! VIII. " No new gossip we'll learn, If help it she can ; How she'll frown if we turn, To look after a man ! IX. " As we sit at our work, From the lattice she'll peer, And be sure to remark If a gallant comes near. x. il look up as you did, For I'll suffer with you ; And I'm loth to be chid, When it is not my due." XI. " sister Minguela, How little you know 1 You guess at my love, But you read not my woe. CHIDING. 159 XII. " Young Pedro (you know 'Tis the son of old Juan), Promised love long ago, But has left me in ruin. XIII. " Had he loved as he swore, He'd have married me yet: Oh, I love him no more, But I cannot forget !" 160 THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT AND THE BLACKBIRD. THE following is a translation of a ballad in the Cancionero of Antwerp, 1555. Pues el mes era de Mayo, &c. There is one in the Cancionero General of Valencia, 1511, of which this would seem to have been no more than an expansion. The older is perhaps the finer of the two. It is, at all events, so short, that I shall transcribe it. Que por Mayo era por Mayo Cuando los blaudos calores Guando los enamorados Van servir a sus amores ; Sino yo, triste Mezquino, Que yago en estas prisiones Que ni se cuando es de dia Ni menos cuando es de Noche ; Sino por una avecilla Que me cantaba al albor ; Matumelo tin ballestero Delo Dios mal galardon ! " 'Tis now, they say, the month of May, 'tis now the moons are bright ; 'Tis now the maids, 'mong greenwood shades, sit with their loves by night ; 'Tis now the hearts of lovers true are glad the groves among ; 'Tis now they sit the long night through, and list the thrush's song. II. M Woe dwells with me, in spite of thee, thou gladsome month of May; I cannot see what stars there be, I know not night from day. There was a bird, whose voice I heard, oh, sweet my small bird sung, I heard its tune when night was gone, and up the morning sprung. THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT AND THE BLACKBIRD. 161 in. J< To comfort me in darkness bound, comes now no voice of cheer, Long have I listened for the sound, there is no bird to hear. Sweet bird ! he had a cruel heart, whose steel thy bosom tore ; A ruffian hand discharged the dart, that makes thee sing no more. IV. " I ani the vassal of my King it never shall be said That I even hence a curse could fling against my liege's head ; But if the jailer slew my merle, no sin is in the word, God look in anger on the churl that harmed my harmless bird ! v. " O, should some kindly Christian bring another bird to me, Thy tune I in his ear would sing till he could sing like thee ; But were a dove within my choice, my song would soon be o'er, For lie would understand my voice, and fly to Leonoro. VI. " He would fly swiftly through the air, and though he could not speak, He'd ask a file, which he could bear within his little beak ; Had I a file, these fetters vile I from my wrist would break, And see right soon the fair May moon shine on my lady's cheek." VII, It chanced while a poor captive knight, within yon dungeon strong, Lamented thus the arrow's flight that stopped his blackbird's song, (Unknown to him) The King was near ; he heard him through the wall, " Nay, since he has no merle to hear, 'tis time his fetters fall," VALLADOLID. [This is a translation from one of the Ballads in Sepulvecta's collection, (Antwerp, 1580) the author's name unknown. En los tempos que me vi, &c. p. 219.] MY heart was happy when I turned from Burgos to Valladolid ; My heart that day was light and gay, it bounded like a kid. I met a Palmer on the way, my horse he bade me rein " I left Valladolid to-day, I bring thee news of pain ! The lady-love whom thou dost seek in gladness and in cheer, Closed is her eye, and cold her cheek, I saw her on her bier. n. " The Priests went singing of the Massj my voice their song did aid ; A hundred knights with them did pass to the burial of the maid ; And damsels fair went weeping there, and many a one did say, Poor Cavalier ! he is not here 'tis well he's far away." I fell when thus I heard him speak, upon the dust I lay, I thought my heart would surely break, I wept for half a day. in. When evening came I rose again, the Palmer held my steed, And swiftly rode I o'er the plain to dark Valladolid. I came unto the sepulchre where they my love had laid, I bowed me down beside the bier, and there my moan I made : " O take me, take me to thy bed, I fain would sleep with thee ! My love is dead, my hope is fled, there is no joy for me !" IV. I heard a sweet voice from the tomb, I heard her voice so clear, " Eise up, rise up, my knightly love, thy weeping well I hear; Eise up and leave this darksome place, it is no place for thee, God yet will send thee helpful grace, in love and chivalry ; Though in the grave my bed I have, for thee my heart is sore, 'Twill ease my heart if thou depart thy peace may God restore !" 163 THE ILL-MARRIED LADY. [This is from another ballad, also in Sepulveda's Collection. "La Bella mal maridada" must have been very popular, for I have seen many different glosses of it, executed in the time when that species of poetical trifling prevailed among the Spanish wits.] u LOVELY lady, married ill, though fairest of the fair thou be, Grief within thine eye is seated, well thy lonely grief I see. If thou seek another lover, seek not farther, rest with me, While thy faithless lord is wandering, faith and love I'll give to thee. il. " All the day thy husband wanders 'midst the damsels of the town, He to play and prado squires them, while thy bosom's peace is flown; Yesternight I heard them sporting, merry jibes on thee they threw, Soon, he said, thy days he'll finish, and another lady woo."- in. Out and spake the lovely lady, " Thou my sorrow well hast read; Take me with thee, gentle stranger, let me quit my lonely bed ; Careless eye and cruel tongue, weary am I of them both, Let me swear to be thy love, and faithfully I'll keep mine oath. IV. "I will serve thee late and early, with an handmaid's humble cheer, I will dress our capon neatly, I will pour our wine so clear ; I will deck our bed so fairly, all with sheets of Holland fine Take me where thou wilt, I'm weary of this faithless lord of mine." M 2 164 THE ILL-MARRIED LADY. v. While the stranger kissed the lady in her chamber o'er and o'er, Hush ! the husband hears their voices ; ha ! he open knocks the door, " Traitress false, and foul adulterer, have I caught ye in the deed? Now to God commend your spirits, great of mercy is your need !" VI. " Husband, bright thy sword is gleaming ! must I, must I die to-day ? Save thyself, with mortal lover, till this hour I never lay. But if blood thy sword must drink, hear my last request, I pray, Harm not him that owed thee nothing ; let me all the forfeit pay! VII. " Though thou whip me with thy bridle, silently the pain I'll bear; Though thou hang me in my girdle, anger shall not stain my prayer ; Let the youth go free, and slay me grant the only boon I crave ! Lay me in the orange garden, there I fain would have my grave. vin. " Underneath the spreading branches, where the blossoms bright are shed, Deeply dig for one that loved thee long and well, a peaceful bed ; Lay a marble stone above, and let its golden legend be, Ladies, shrink from love unholy, warned by her whose tomb you see.' " 165 DRAGUT. [The reader of Don Quixote will remember the description of the Captain Viedma's landing in Spain after his Moorish captivity. Dragut was a celebrated corsair of Algiers.] O SWIFTLY, very swiftly, they up the Straits have gone, O swiftly flies the corsair, and swift the cross comes on, The cross upon yon banner, that streams unto the breeze, It is the sign of victory, the cross of the Maltese. ii. " Row, row, my slaves," quoth Dragut," the knights, the knights are near, Row, row, my slaves, row swiftly, the star-light is too clear, The stars they are too bright, and he that means us well, He harms us when he trims his light yon Moorish sentinel." IIS. There came a wreath of smoke from out a culverine, The corsair's poop it broke, and it sunk in the brine 5 Stout Dragut swims ashore, but many a one goes down ; Down goes the fettered Christian with the servant of Mahoun. IV. But one of Dragut's captives, a happy man is he, The Christian sailors see him struggling in the sea, They hear the captive praying in the Christian tongue, And a rope from the galley they down to him have flung. 166 LRAGUT. v. It was a Spanish knight, who had long been in Algiers, From ladies high descended, and noble cavaliers, But forced, for a season, a false Moor's slave to be, Upon the shore his gardener, his galley-slave at sea. VI. But now his heart is dancing, he sees the Spanish land, And all his friends advancing to meet him on the strand.- His heart was full of gladness, but his eyes they ran o'er, For he wept as he stepped upon the Christian shore. 167 COUNT ALARCOS AND THE INFANTA SOLISA. [Mr. Bouterweck has analysed this ballad, and commented upon it at some length, in his History of Spanish Literature. See Book I. Section 1 . He bestows particular praise upon a passage, which the reader will find attempted in the fourth line of stanza xxxi of the following version Dedas me aca este hijo amamare por despedida. "What modern poet," says he, "would have dared to imagine that trait, at once so natural and touching ?" Mr. Bouterweck seems to be of opinion that the story of the ballad had been taken from some prose romance of chivalry ; but I have not been able to find any trace of it. ] ALONE, as was her wont, she sate, within her bower alone ; Alone, and very desolate, Solisa made her moan, Lamenting for her flower of life, that it should pass away, And she be never wooed to wife, nor see a bridal day, ii. Thus said the sad Infanta " I will not hide my grief, I'll tell my father of my wrong, and he will yield relief." The King, when he beheld her near, " Alas! my child," said lie, " What means this melancholy cheer ? reveal thy grief to me." in. " Good King," she said, " my mother was buried long ago, She left me to thy keeping, none else my griefs shall know ; I fain would have a husband, 'tis time that I should wed, Forgive the words I utter, with mickle shame they're said." IV. 'Twas thus the King made answer, " This fault is none of mine, You to the Prince of Hungary your ear would not incline ; Yet round us here where lives your peer? nay, name him if you can, Except the Count Alarcos, and he's a married man," 168 COUNT ALARCOS AND THE INFANTA SOUS A. v, " Ask Count Alarcos, if of yore his word he did not plight To be my husband evermore, and love me day and night? If he has bound him in new vows, old oaths he cannot break Alas ! I've lost a loyal spouse, for a false lover's sake." VI. The good King sat confounded in silence for some space, At length he made this answer, with very troubled face, " It was not thus your mother gave counsel you should do ; You've done much wrong, my daughter ; we're shamed, both ] and you. VII. " If it be true that you have said, our honour's lost and gone ; And while the Countess is in life, remeed for us is none. Though justice were upon our side, ill-talkers would not spare Speak, daughter, for your mother's dead, whose counsel eased my care." VIII. " How can I give you counsel ? but little wit have I ; But certes, Count Alarcos may make this Countess die : Let it be noised that sickness cut short her tender life, And then let Count Alarcos come and ask me for his wife. What passed between us long ago, of that be nothing said ; Thus none shall our dishonour know, in honour I shall wed." IX. The Count was standing with his friends, thus in the midst he spake " What fools we be ! what pains men dree for a fair woman's sake ! I loved a fair one long ago ; though I'm a married man, Sad memory I can ne'er forego, how life and love began." x. While yet the Count was speaking, the good King came full near ; He made his salutation with very courteous cheer. ** Come hither, Count Alarcos, and dine with me this day, For I have something secret I in your ear must say." COUNT ALARCOS AND THE INFANTA SOLISA. 160 XI. The King came from the chapel, when he had heard the mass ; With him the Count Alarcos did to his chamber pass; Full nobly were they served there, by pages many a one ; When all were gone, and they alone, 'twas thus the King begun. XII. " What news be these, Alarcos, that you your word did plight, To be a husband to my child, and love her day and night ? If more between you there did pass, yourself may know the truth, But shamed is my grey-head alas ! and scorned Solisa'a youth. XIII. " I have a heavy word to speak, a lady fair doth lie Within my daughter's rightful place, and certes ! she must die. Let it be noised that sickness cut short her tender life, Then come and woo my daughter, and she shall be your wife : What passed between you long ago, of that be nothing said, Thus, none shall my dishonour know in honour you shall wed." XIV. Thus spake the Count Alarcos " The truth I'll not deny, I to the Infanta gave my troth, and broke it shamefully; I feared my King would ne'er consent to give me his fair daughter ; But, oh! spare her that's innocent avoid that sinful slaughter." xv. " She dies, she dies," the King replies ; " from thine own sin it springs, If guiltless blood must wash the blot which stains the blood of kings : Ere morning dawn her life must end, and thine must be the deed Else thou on shameful block must bend : thereof is no re- meed." 170 COUNT ALARCOS AND THE INFANTA SOLI S A. " Good King, my hand thou mayst command, else treason blots my name ! Ml take the life of my dear wife (God ! mine be not the blame !) Alas ! that young and sinless heart for others' sin should bleed ! Good King, in sorrow I depart." "May God your errand speed!" XVII. In sorrow he departed, dejectedly he rode The weary journey from that place, unto his own abode ; He grieved for his fair Countess, dear as his life was she ; Sore grieved he for that lady, and for his children three. XVIII. The one was yet an infant upon its mother's breast, For though it had three nurses, it liked her milk the best ; The others were young children, that had but little wit, Hanging about their mother's knee while nursing she did sit. XIX. " Alas !" he said, when he had come within a little space, " How shall I brook the cheerful look of my kind lady's face ? To see her coming forth in glee to meet me in my hall, When she so soon a corpse must be, and I the cause of all !" XX. Just then he saw her at the door with all her babes appear (The little page had run before to tell his lord was near) " Now welcome home, my lord, my life! Alas! you drnop your head : Tell, Count Alarcos, tell your wife, what makes your eyes so red?" XXI. " I'll tell you all I'll tell you all : It is not yet the hour ; We'll sup together in the hall I'll tell you in your bower." The lady brought forth what she had, and down beside him sate; He sat beside her pale and sad, but neither drank nor ate, COUNT ALARCOS AND THE INFANTA SOLISA. 171 XXII. The children to his side were led (he loved to have them so), Then on the board he laid his head, and out his tears did flow : " I fain would sleep I fain would sleep," the Count Alarcos said : Alas ! be sure, that sleep was none that night within their bed. xxm. They came together to the bower where they were used to rest, None with them but the little babe that was upon the breast : The Count had barred the chamber doors, they ne'er were barred till then ; " Unhappy lady," he began, " and I most lost of men !" XXIV. " Now, speak not so, my noble lord, my husband and my life, Unhappy never can she be, that is Alarcos' wife." " Alas ! unhappy lady, 'tis but little that you know, For in that very word you've said is gathered all your woe. xxv. " Long since I loved a lady, long since I oaths did plight, To be that lady's husband, to love her day and night ; Her father is our lord the King, to him the thing is known, And now, that I the news should bring ! she claims me for her own. XXVI. " Alas ! my love, alas ! my life, the right is on their side ; Ere I had seen your face, sweet wife, she was betrothed my bride ; But, oh ! that I should speak the word since in her place you lie, It is the bidding of our Lord, that you this night must die." XXVII. "Are these the wages of my love, so lowly and so leal? O, kill me not, thou noble Count, when at thy foot I kneel ! But send me to my father's house, where once I dwelt in glee, There will I live a lone chaste life, and rear my children three," 172 COUNT ALAECOS AND THE INFANTA SOLISA. XXVIII. " It may not be mine oath is strong ere dawn of day you die!" " ! well 'tis seen how all alone upon the earth am I My father is an old frail man, my mother's in her grave, And dead is stout Don Garcia Alas ! my brother brave ! XXIX. " 'Twas at this coward King's command they slew my brother dear, And now I'm helpless in the land : It is not death I fear, But loth, loth am I to depart, and leave my children so Now let me lay them to my heart, and kiss them ere I go." "Kiss him that lies upon thy breast the rest thou mayst not see." 11 1 fain would say an Ave." " Then say it speedily." She knelt her down upon her knee : " O, Lord ! behold my case Judge not my deeds, but look on me in pity and great grace." When she had made her orison, up from her knees she rose " Be kind, Alarcos, to our babes, and pray for my repose And now give me my boy once more upon my breast to hold, That he may drink one farewell drink, before my breast be cold." XXXII. " Why would you waken the poor child ? you see he is asleep- Prepare, dear wife, there is no time, the dawn begins to peep." " Now hear me, Count Alarcos! I give thee pardon free 1 pardon thee for the love's sake wherewith I've loved thee. XXXIII. " But they have not my pardon, the King and his proud daughter The curse of God be on them, for this unchristian slaughter ! I charge them with my dying breath, ere thirty days be gone, To meet me in the realm of death, and at God's awful throne !" COUNT ALARGOS AND THE INFANTA SOLISA. 173 XXXIV. He drew a kerchief round her neck, he drew it tight and strong, Until she lay quite stiff and cold her chamber floor along ; He laid her then within the sheets, and, kneeling by her side, To God and Mary Mother in misery he cried. XXXV. Then called he for his esquires : oh ! deep was their dismay, When they into the chamber came, and saw her how she lay ; Thus died she in her innocence, a lady void of wrong, But God took heed of their offence his vengeance stayed not long. XXXVI. Within twelve days, in pain and dole, the Infanta passed away, The cruel King gave up his soul upon the twentieth day ; Alarcos followed ere the Moon had made her round complete, Three guilty spirits stood right soon before God's judgment- seat. CHRONICLE OE THE CID, EODEIGO DIAZ DE BIVAE, THE CAMPEADOR. BY EGBERT SOUTHEY. PREFACE. THIS Chronicle of the Cid is wholly translation, but it is not the translation of any single work. The three following have been used. I. CRONICA DEL FAMOSO CAVALLERO CID RUYDIEZ CAMPEADOR. Burgos, 1593. The first and only other edition of this Chronicle was printed in 1552. The Infante Don Fernando, who was afterwards Emperor, seeing the manuscript at Cardeiia, ordered the Abbot Don Fr. Juan de Yelorado to publish it, and obtained an order from his grandfather Fernando the Catholic King to the same effect. The Abbot performed his task very carelessly and very inaccurately, giving no account of the manuscript, and suffering many errors to creep into the text, which might have been corrected by collating it with the original. Beuther, Escolano, and others, ascribe it to Abenalfarax, the nephew of Gil Diaz. Berganza is of opinion that the main part was written by Gil Diaz himself, because the manuscript at Cardena says, "Then Abenfax the Moor, who wrote this Chronicle in Arabic, set down the price of food :" And Abentaxi, accord- ing to him, was the name of Gil Diaz before his conversion. Abenalfarax is named in the end of the book as the author : he concludes therefore that it was completed by him ; . . and this the Coronica General confirms by saying, Segun cuenta la Estoria del Cid, que de aqui adelante compuso Aben Alfarax su sobrmo de Gil Diaz en Valencia. The printed Chronicle however says Abenalfarax where Berganza reads Abenfax, and writes Alfaraxi for the Moorish name of Gil Diaz. This question is not easily decided. There is nothing Arabian in the style of the Chronicle, except the lamentation for Valencia, which is mani- festly so. It is most probably the work of a Spaniard, who used Arabic documents. It is equally impossible to ascertain the age of this Chronicle. The Abbot who published it judged that it was as old as the N 178 PREFACE. days of the Cid himself. This supposition is absurd. Lucas of Tuy and the Archbishop Eodrigo are frequently cited in it. It was however an old manuscript in 1552. A much older was seen in 1593 by Don Gil Kamirez de Arellano, which according to his account was in Portuguese, but agreed in the main with that which had been published. The older the language, the more it would resemble Portuguese. Another question is, ' whether it has been inserted in the Coronica General, or extracted from it : for that the one copied from the other is certain : but it is equally certain from the variations, that each must have had some other original ; . . perhaps the Arabic. If the Cronica del Cid be extracted from the General Chronicle, which is giving it the latest date, even in that case it was written before the end of the thirteenth century ; that is, little more than 150 years after the Cid's death ; and whatever fiction has been introduced into the story, must have been invented long before, or it would not have been received as truth, and incorporated into the general history of Spain. This question has not been, and perhaps cannot be decided. There are some errors in the Chronicle of the Cid which are corrected in the General Chronicle, and sometimes it contains passages which are necessary to explain an after circumstance, but are not found in the other.* II. Las quatro paries enteras de la Cronica de Espana, que mando componer el Serenissimo Rey Don Alonso llmado el sabio, donde se contienen los acontesdmientos y hazanas mayores y mas senaladas que suqedieron en Espana, desde su primera poblacion hasta casi los tiempos del dicho senor Rey. vista y emendada mucha parte de su impresion por el maestro Florian Docampo Cronista del emperador rey nuestro senor. Con previlegio impe- rial. Fue impressa la presente Cronica general de Espana en la magnifica, nolle y antiquissima cibdad de Zamora : por los lion- rrados varones Augustin de paz y Juan Picardo companeros in- pressores de libros, vezinos de la dicha cibdad. A costa y espensas del virtuoso varon Juan de Spinosa mercader de libros vezino de Medina pel Campo. Acabose en nueve dias del mes de deziembre. * The language of the Or. del Cid is sometimes of greater antiquity than the other, . . for instance; . . E tamafiofue el plazer del Rey J). Fer- nando e de los suyos quamano fue el pesar del Rey D. Ramiro de Aragon 6 de los suyos. In the Cor. Ger. quan grande and tan grande are the phrases. But this is a subject which none but a Spaniard caa properly investigate. PREFACE. 179 A no del nasdmiento de nuestro Salvador Jesu Cristo de mill y quinientos y quarenta y un anos. Reynando en Espana el Em- perador Don Carlos nuestro Senor y Rey natural. Florian de Ocampo relates the history of this first edition in his epistle dedicatory to Don Luys de Stuniga y Avila. The printers of Zamora, he says, came to him and besought him to give them something which they might publish to the use ana glory of those kingdoms whereof they and he were natives. He had at that time in his house a manuscript of this Chronicle, which had been lent him by the Licentiate Martin de Aguilar. Aguilar joyfully gave up the manuscript to the printers, and Ocampo undertook to correct the press as far as he could n those hours which he could spare from his studies and pursuits : this, says he, I did with such fidelity that I would never permit the style, nor order, nor antique words to be changed, holding any such alteration to be an offence committed upon the work of another. Notwithstanding this becoming respect for antiquity, Ocampo passes a censure upon the style at the end of the Suma- rio. He says, Todas estas cosas sobredichas van escritas en estas quatro paries con plabras antiguas y toscas, segun las usavan los Espanoles al tiempo que las hazian, quando se presciavan mas de bien obrar que de bien hablar puesto que siempre fue y sera gran alabanga bien hablar a los que bien obran. The Spanish Chronicles were all villanously printed, because the printers made use of the first manuscript they could find, and the correctors did their best to bring the language to that of their own times, after the newest and most approved fashion. This mischief Ocampo prevented as far as he could, but he should have done more ; Ocampo was not a common Corrector of the Press ; he was Chronicler to the King of Castile, and any manuscript in the kingdom which he had asked for would have been put into his hands as readily as that of his friend Aguilar. The copy which he implicitly followed happened to be remark- ably faulty. Words and sentences are omitted in almost every column, whole chapters are wanting, and even one entire reign. Zurita collated the printed book with a manuscript of great anti- quity, which had once belonged to the famous Marques de San- tillana ; and this copy, in which he had with his own hand inserted all the omissions, was in the possession of the Marques de Mondejar. An imperfect manuscript, which is likewise of great antiquity, is at Salamanca, in the Collegio de S. Bartolome ; some man of letters has prefixed a note to it, saying that it contains many chapters which are not to be found in the printed N 2 180 PREFACE. book . . y tiene tamlien otra ulilidad que es, el hallarse aqui los vocables y voces castellanas antiguas en su pureza, sin habcrse limado al tiempo presente, como la imprimio Florian de Ocampo. If this writer be accurate, the copier of Aguilar's manuscript had modernized the book as well as mutilated it. Ocampo calls this work la Cronica de Espana, que mando componer el Serenissimo Rey D. Alonso. The manuscript which Zurita collated has la Estoria de Espana que fizo el mui noble Rey D. Alonso. The Marques de Mondejar possessed three manuscripts, neither of which supported Ocampo's reading, nor afforded the slightest ground for supporting it. On the other hand, Don Juan Manuel, Alonso's nephew, expressly says that the King made the Chronicle, and in the Prologue the King says so himself. That Florian de Ocampo, who printed the Prologue, should have overlooked this, is inconceivable ; and why he should deny the King wrote it, in direct contradiction of the King's own authority, is what he has not explained, and what nobody can explain for him. Don Francisco Cerda y Rico says, the real author was Maestre Jofre de Loaysa, Archdeacon of Toledo, and afterwards Abbot of Santander ; and this he says he Tias proved in a dissertation which w T as ready for the press. I know not whether this dissertation has appeared, neither do I know that at the distance of more than five centuries any proof can possibly be obtained to show that Alonso the Wise did not write the history, which he himself says he wrote, and which we know he was capable of writing. The printed Chronicle is divided into four parts, and the last part is not Alonso's work. Ocampo gives it as his own opinion, and that of many other intelligent persons, that it was not written by the author of the three former, because it contained nothing but what was to be found in other books; because the style was different, and the language ruder, . . the whole being in fact composed of fragments put together without any attempt at improving them, and because in many places the writer ex- pressed himself as if he had been contemporary with the persons whose feats he was then recording. There is no doubt that this opinion is 1 right. It ends with the death of King St. Fernando, Alonso's father. It is in this part that the history of the Cid is contained. This very curious work was reprinted at Yalladolid in 1604 It is the later edition which I have used. PREFACE. 181 III. POEMA DEL ClD. Sandoval first mentioned this poem, which is preserved at Bivar, and gave the four first lines, calling the whole " Verse* Barbaras if Notables." Berganza afterwards inserted seventeen lines in his Antiguedades. The notice which they thus save of its existence excited the curiosity of Sanchez, to whom Spanish literature has been so greatly indebted, and he published it in the first volume of his Coleccion de Poesias Castellan as Anterior e% al Siglo XV. Some leaves are wanting at the beginning o 1 .' the manuscript, and one in the middle. The whole fragment consists of 3744 lines, the three last of which are added by the transcriber : Quien escribio este libra del' Dios paraiso : Amen. Per ablat le escribio en el mes de mayo En era de mill e CC . . XL V. afios. Who Per Abbat was, and whether Abbat implied his rank or his name, cannot now be known : . . it is certain that he was the copier of the book, not the author, by the language, which is much older than the date of the manuscript. But there is a difficulty concerning the date. There is a space between the CC and the XLV ; and that space is just as much as another C would have filled. Perhaps, says Sanchez, the copier put one C too much, and erased it ; perhaps he placed the conjunction e, part of the date being expressed by words and part by figures, and afterwards erased it as superfluous; or possibly some person thought to give the manuscript greater value by obliterating one C, to make it appear a century older. The writing seems to be of the fourteenth century. It is of little consequence ; even upon that supposition the date is 1307 ; and no person can doubt that the language of the poem is considerably older than that of Gonzalo de Berceo, who flourished about 1220 ; . . . a century is hardly sufficient to account for the difference between them. Sanchez is of opinion that it was composed about the middle of the twelfth century, some fifty years after the death of the Cid ; . . . there are some passages which induce me to believe it the work of a contemporary. Be that as it may, it is unquestionably the oldest poem in the Spanish language. In my judgment it is as decidedly and beyond all comparison the finest. One other source of information remains to be mentioned, the popular ballads of the Cid. 182 PREFACE. ROMANCES DEL CID. Sarmiento (Mem. para la Hist, de la Poesla, 546. 548. 550.) delivers it as his opinion, that the popular ballads of the Twelve Peers, Bernardo del Carpio, Fernan Gonzalez, the Cid, &c. were composed soon after the age of the heroes whom they celebrate, and Avere what the Copier vs, Trotiveurs, Jocular s, and all the common people, sung at their entertainments. That these being orally preserved, were subject to frequent alterations as the language of the country altered ; and thus when at length they were committed to writing, their language was materially different, but their substance remained the same. In support of this authority which he assigns to them in point of fact, he observes that the Cor. General frequently cites the Joglares or popular poets. Their present form he assigns to the end of the fifteenth century. Sarmiento describes the collection which he had seen of the .Ballads of the Cid as containing one hundred and two ballads, in old style, and in eight-syllable verse. This is the Historia del muy valeroso Cavallero el Cid Ruy Diez de Bivar^ en Romances, en lenguage antigito, recopilados por Juan de Escobar. Sevilla, 1632. The ballads in this little volume are chronologically arranged; it is, I believe, the only separate collection, and by no means a complete one. Two which Escobar has overlooked are among the Romances nuevamente sacados de Historias Antiguas de la Cronica de Espana por Lorenzo de Sepulveda vezino de Sevilla. Van anadidos muclios nunca vislos, compuestos por un Cavallero Cesario, ciiyo nombre se guarda para may ores cosas. Anvers, 1566. This volume contains forty-one ballads of the Cid, scattered through it without any regular order. There are thirty-two in the Romancero General, en que se contienen todos los Romances que andan impressos en las nueve paries de Roman- cer os. Aora nuevamente impresso, ttftadido, y emendado. Medina del Campo, 1602. Twelve of these are not in Escobar's collec- tion; and probably others which He has overlooked may fee found in other Romanceros. Many of these ballads are evidently iiltle older than the volumes in which they are contained ; very few of them appear to me to bear any marks of antiquity, and (the greater part are utterly worthless. Indeed the heroic baSlada of the Spaniards have been over-rated in this country : ihey are infinitely and every way inferior to our own. There are some spirited ones in the Guerras Civiles de Granada, from the rest have been estimated ; but excepting these, I know PREFACE. 183 none of any value among the many hundreds which I have perused. I have very seldom availed myself of the Romances del Cid. The Chronicle of the Cid is the main web of the Story of the Cid. I have omitted such parts as relate to the general history of Spain but have no reference to Kuydiez, and I have incor- porated with it whatever additional circumstances, either of fact or costume, are contained in the Cronica General or the Poema del Cid. The poem is to be considered as metrical history, not metrical romance. It was written before those fictions were in- vented which have been added to the history of the Cid, and which have made some authors discredit what there is not the slightest reason to doubt. I have preferred it to ,the Chronicles sometimes in point of fact, and always in point of costume ; for as the historian of manners, this poet, whose name unfortunately has perished, is the Homer of Spain. A few material additions have been made from other authentic sources, and the references are given, section by section, with exemplary minute- ness. X^f^lv -* INTEODUCTION. IF any country might have been thought safe from the Sara- cens, it was Spain. The Wisi-Goths had been nearly three centuries in possession of it : during that time the independent kingdoms which were founded by the first conquerors, had been formed into one great monarchy, more extensive and more powerful than any other existing at the same time in Europe ; they and the conquered were blended into one people ; their languages were intermingled, and the religion and laws of the peninsula had received that character which they retain even to the present day. The Wisi-Goths themselves were a more formidable enemy than the Mahommedans had yet encountered ; in Persia, Syria, and Egypt, they had found a race always accustomed to oppression, and ready for the yoke of the strongest ; among the Greeks a vicious and effeminated people, a govern- ment at once feeble and tyrannical, and generals w r ho either by their treachery or incapacity, afforded them an easy conquest ; in Africa they overrun provinces which had not yet recovered from the destructive victories of Belisarius. But the Spanish Goths were a nation of freemen, and their strength and reputa- tion unimpaired. Yet in two battles their monarchy was sub- verted ; their cities fell as fast as they were summoned, and in almost as little time as the Moors could travel over the king- dom, they became masters of the whole, except, only those mountainous regions in which the language of the first Spaniards found an asylum from the Romans, and which were now destined to preserve the liberties and institutions of the Goths. No country was ever yet subdued by foreign enemies, unless tha badness of its government, or the folly of its governors, pre- pared the way for them. The laws of succession among the Wisi-Goths were ill-defined and worse observed. There were claimants to the crown abject enough to be wdlling to accept it from the hand of the Moorish Conqueror, and fools enough to suppose that a conqueror would give it them ; actuated by this 186 INTRODUCTION. vile hope, and by the desire of destroying their rival, though the utter overthrow of their country should be brought about by the same means, they invited the invaders, and aided them with all their influence. These wretches are inexcusable. Count Julian was provoked by heavier injuries to pursue the same unhappy course. Eodrigo the reigning King had forcibly violated his daughter. An act of manly vengeance would have been recorded with applause; but he betrayed his country find renounced his religion to revenge an individual wrong, and for him too there is no excuse. There is little for those Arians and other persecuted sectaries with whom Spain abounded, who welcomed the Moors, or willingly submitted to them weak and miserable men, to rejoice in ruin, because it fell heavier upon their oppressors than themselves ! But there were two classes in Spain, the Jews and the slaves, whom the grievances which they endured justified in forwarding any revolution that afforded them even a chance of change, and in joining any invaders as their deliverers. The persecution which the Jews endured from the Wisi-Goth Kings, was more atrocious than any to which that persecuted race had yet been exposed : . . . the fiendish system of extirpation, which has since been pursued against them in the same country, was little more than a re- newal of the execrable laws enacted by Sisebuto, Suinthela, Recesuinto, and Egica. If they were detected in observing any custom or ceremony of their religion, they were to be killed upon the spot, or stoned, or burnt ; . . . and finally, upon an absurd accusation that they had conspired with the Jews of Africa and other provinces to rise against the Christians and destroy them, they were all condemned to slavery, and their children above the age of seven taken from them, and baptized. The laws respecting slaves were iniquitous in the highest degree. At one time they were not admitted as witnesses, and the law which disqualified them, classed them with thieves, murderers, and poisoners. If in spite of this law their evidence was taken, it was not to be believed, though it had been forced from them by torture. When it was found that this disqualification too frequently obstructed the course of justice, they were allowed to be heard in trifling actions, and upon any deadly fray, pro- vided no free witnesses could be found. In questions of adultery, treason, coining, murder, and poisoning, they might be tortured to extort evidence against their masters : he who gave it under the torture suffered with the criminal, but if he gave it without compulsion, he escaped ; this law must often have oc- INTRODUCTION. 187 oasioned the condemnation of the innocent. If a slave who had been transferred accused his former master, that master had the privilege of repurchasing him to punish him at pleasure. A law was made to keep the children of slaves, slaves like their parents, because, said the legislator, there is a great confusion of lineage when the son is not like the father, and as the root is even so must the branch be. By a still greater injustice, if a runaway slave of either sex married a free person, under pre- tence of being free, the children of that marriage became slaves to the owner of the fugitive. If a woman married her slave, or one who having been her slave had been emancipated, both were to be burnt. The very sanctuary was forbidden them ; they used to fly to the churches, that the clergy might hear their complaints and compel their merciless owners to sell them ; but even this refuge was taken away, and it was enacted that they should be given up to punishment. There was a penalty for harbouring fugitive slaves; and whosoever admitted one into his house, though the runaway called himself free, and did not immediately carry him before a judge for examination, was to receive a hundred stripes and pay the owner a pound ; the neighbours were liable to the same penalties, if they did not supply his neglect ; all persons therefore were bound to examine a suspicious stranger, and torture him to find out who he was. If they omitted to do this, men or women, of whatever race, family, or rank, were to suffer two hundred stripes, churchmen and officers of justice three hundred, and Bishop or Lord who was thus guilty, either for compassion or for a bribe, was to forfeit three pounds to the King, and do penance during thirty days, like one who had been excommunicated. The monstrous severity of this law proves how frequently these unhappy people fled from their masters, and the legislator complains that there was neither city, castle, burgh, nor village, in which runaway slaves were not concealed. Such were the laws of the Spanish Goths respecting slavery ! where such a system was established, the first invader could riot but be victorious, because he found recruits in every house. The kingdom deserved to fall, and it fell. The Mahommedans made many proselytes in Spain as well as everywhere else where they established themselves. But the growth and decline of all Mahommedan empires are neces- sarily connected with the civil and religious institutions of Islam- ism, and may be traced to them. In forming a new religion, Mahommed aimed at making its ritual less burthensome, its morality more indulgent, and its 188 INTRODUCTION. creed more rational than those of other nations. It was not however enough to appeal to the reason, nor even to the passions of mankind, without at the same time profiting by their cre- dulity. To the Jews he announced himself as the Messiah, the conqueror in whom their prophecies centered ; to the Christians as the Paraclete who was to accomplish the yet unfulfilled system of revelation. The mere robber would soon have been crushed, the mere philosopher would have been neglected, and he who had attempted to preach the incommunicable nature of Deity either among Pagan or Christian Idolaters, would hardly have escaped death as a blasphemer. God is God, was a tenet to which none would have listened without the daring addition that Mahommed was his prophet. The impiety of one reason- able doubt would have shocked and terrified those who believed the impudence of an asserted mission. Reason was too weak to stand alone, and clung to fanaticism for support. No traces of a disordered mind are discoverable either in the life or in the doctrines of Mahommed. The pure theism which he preached he probably believed; but his own claims pro- ceeded from ambition, not from self-deceit. Persevering in his object, he varied the means, and never scrupled at accommodating his institutions to the established prejudices of the people. At first Jerusalem was chosen to be the metropolis of his rel ; gion, and the point toward which all the faithful should turn their faces in prayer. This privilege he transferred to Mecca, and though he destroyed the Idols of the Caaba, he suffered the black stone which was the great object of idolatrous worship, to retain its honours. Those founders or reformers of religion who were inspired, and those who believed themselves to be so, have spared neither the prejudices, nor passions, nor feelings, nor instincts, which opposed them. Mahommed attempted no such conquest over human nature : he did not feel himself strong enough to conquer. His conduct displayed the versatility of a statesman, not the inflexibility of an honest fanatic. The Moslem, in proof of their religion, appeal to the plenary and manifest inspiration of the Koran. They rest the divinity of their holy Book upon its inimitable excellence ; but instead of holding it to be divine because it is excellent, they believe its excellence because they admit its divinity. There is nothing in the Koran which affects the feelings, nothing which elevates the imagination, nothing which enlightens the understanding, nothing which ameliorates the heart : it contains no beautiful narrative, no proverbs of wisdom or axioms of morality ; it is a INTRODUCTION. 189 chaos of detached sentences, a mass of dull tautology. Not a solitary passage to indicate the genius of a poet can be found in the whole volume. Inspired by no fanaticism, of a meagre mind, and with morals of open and impudent profligacy, Ma- hommed has effected a revolution which in its ruinous conse- quences still keeps in barbarism the greatest and finest part of the old world. His were common talents, and it is by common j talents that great revolutions have most frequently been effected ; j when the train is ready there needs no lightning to kindle it, any spark suffices. That his character was not generally mis- taken, is evident from the number of imitators who started up : there is also reason to suspect that it was as well understood by many of his friends as by his enemies. Ali indeed believed in him with all the ardour of youth and affection ; but they who \vere convinced by the sword are suspicious converts, and among these are Abbas and Amrou and Caled, the holiest heroes of Islamism. Ambition and the hope of plunder soon filled his armies, and they who followed him for these motives could teach their children what they did not believe themselves. The political and moral system of the Impostor, if system it may be called, is such as might be expected from one whc aimed only at his own aggrandizement, and had no generous views or hopr s beyond it. That his language and his institu- tions have spread together is not to be attributed to him : this great political advantage necessarily arises when nations are either civilized or converted by force, and it is only by force that this relig'on has been propagated ; its missionaries have marched in armies, and its only martyrs are those who have fallen in the field of battle. Mahornmed attempted nothing like a fabric of society : he took abuses as he found them. The continuance of polygamy was his great and ruinous error ; where this perni- cious custom is established, there will be neither connubial, nor paternal, nor brotherly affection ; and hence the unnatural murders with which Asiatic history abounds. The Mahomme- clan imprisons his wives, and sometimes knows not the faces of his own children ; he believes that despotism must be necessary in the state, because he knows it to be necessary at home : thus the domestic tyrant becomes the contented slave, and the atrocity of the ruler and the patience of the people proceed from the same cause. It is the inevitable tendency of polygamy to degrade both sexes ; wherever it prevails, the intercourse between them is merely sexual. Women are only instructed in Wantonness, sensuality becomes the characteristic of whole 190 INTRODUCTION. nations, and humanity is disgraced by crimes the most loath- some and detestable. This is the primary and general cause of that despotism and degradation which are universal throughout /he East: not climate, or the mountaineers would be free and virtuous ; not religion, for through all the changes of belief which the East has undergone, the evil and the effect have re- mained the same. Mahommed inculcated the doctrine of fatalism, because it is the most useful creed for a conqueror. The blind passiveness which it causes has completed the degradation, and for ever impeded the improvement of all Mahommedan nations. They will not struggle against oppression, for the same reason that they will not avoid the infection of the plague. If from this state of stupid patience they are provoked into a paroxysm of brutal fury, they destroy the tyrant ; but the tyranny remains unaltered. Oriental revolutions are like the casting a stone into a stagnant pool ; the surface is broken for a moment, and then the green weeds close over it again. Such a system can produce only tyrants and slaves, those who are watchful to commit any crime for power, and those who are ready to endure any oppression for tranquillity. A bar- barous and desolating ambition has been the sole motive of their conquering chiefs ; the wisdom of their wisest sovereigns has produced nothing of public benefit : it has ended in idle moralizings, and the late discovery that all is vanity. One Tyrant at the hour of death asserts the equality of mankind ; another, who had attained empire by his crimes, exposes his shroud at last, and proclaims that now nothing but that is left, him. I have slain the Princes of men, said Azzud ad Dowlah, and have laid waste the palaces of Kings. I have dispersed them to the East and scattered them to the West, and now the Grave calls me, and I must go ! and he died with the frequent exclamation, What avails my wealth ? my empire is departing from me ! ... When Mahmoud, the great Gaznevide, was dying of consumption in his Palace of Happiness, he ordered that all his treasures should be brought out to amuse him. They were laid before him, silk and tapestry, jewels, vessels of silver and gold, coffers of money, the spoils of the nations whom he had plundered : it was the spectacle of a whole day, . . but pride yielded to the stronger feeling of nature ; . . Mahmoud recollected that he was in his mortal sickness, and wept and moralized upon the vanity of the world. It were wearying to dwell upon the habitual crimes of which INTEODUGTION. 101 their history is composed ; we may estimate their guilt by what is said of their virtues. Of all the Abbassides, none but Mutaded equalled Almanzor in goodness. A slave one day, when fanning away the flies from him, struck off his turban, upon which Mutaded only remarked that the boy was sleepy ; but the Vizir who was present fell down and kissed the ground, and exclaimed, O Commander of the Faithful, I never heard of such a thing ! I did not think such clemency had been possible ! , . for it was the custom of this Caliph, when a slave displeased li'm, to have the offender buried alive. The Mahommedan sovereigns have suffered their just punish- ment ; they have been miserable as well as wicked. For others they can feel no sympathy, and have learnt to take no interest : for themselves there is nothing but fear ; their situation excludes them from hope,- and they have the perpetual sense of danger, and the dread of that inevitable hour wherein there shall be no distinction of persons. This fear they have felt and confessed ; in youth it has embittered enjoyment, and it has made age dreadful. A dream, or the chance words of a song, or the figures of the tapestry, have terrified them into tears. Haroun Al Kaschid opened a volume of poems, and read, Where are the Kings, and where are the rest of the world ? They are gone the way which thou shalt go. O thou who chusest a perishable world, and callest him happy whom it glorifies, take what the world can give thee, but death is as the end ! And at these words, he who had murdered Yahia and the Barmecides, wept aloud. In these barbarous monarchies the people are indolent, be- cause if they acquire wealth they dare not enjoy it. Punishment produces no shame, for it is inflicted by caprice not by justice. They who are rich or powerful become the victims of rapacity or fear. If a battle or fortress be lost, the Commander is punished for his misfortune ; if he become popular for his vic- tories, he incurs the jealousy and hatred of the ruler. Nor is it enough that wealth, and ^honour, and existence are at the Despot's mercy ; the feelings and instincts must yield at his command. If he take the son for his eunuch, and the daughter for his concubine ; if he order the father to execute the child, it is what Destiny has appointed, and the Mahommedan says, . , God's will be done. But insulted humanity has not unfrequently been provoked to take vengeance; the monarch is always in danger, because the subject is never secure ; these are the con- lequences of that absolute power and passive obedience which 1 92 INTEOD UCTION. have resulted from the doctrines of Mahommed ; and this i-; the state of sociely wherever his religion has been established. But when Islamism entered Spain, it was in its youth and vigour ; its destructive principles had not yet had time to deve- lope themselves ; and its military apostles could safely challenge corrupted Christianity to a comparison of creeds. No nation had yet been able to resist them ; they had gone on from victory to victory. With the majority of mankind the successful cause passes for the right one ; and when there were so many motives for conversion, it is not to be wondered at that the greater num- ber of the Spanish Goths became converts to a triumphant faith. When in the first years of that faith Amrou led an army against Gaza, the Governor asked, for what reason the city was attacked. Our Master, replied Amrou, has sent us to conquer you, unless ye receive our religion ; do this and ye shall be our companions and brethren. If ye refuse this, pay a yearly tribute for ever, and we will protect you against all invaders. If neither of these terms be accepted, there can be only the sword between us, and we must war upon you in obedience to the command of the Lord. This was the system of the Mahommedans, and hitherto no policy could have succeeded better. The Christians who re- tained their religion became a kind of Helots, who supplied the revenue and cultivated the land ; they were everywhere the minority, and as Mahommedan states grew round them on all sides, it was not long before they disappeared. The Moors found the same obsequiousness in Spain as they had done in Africa and in the East. The main part of the men apostatized, and the women contentedly learnt a new creed, to qualify them- selves for foreign husbands, or for the renegados who profited by the ruin of their country. But there yet remained Gothic valour and Gothic genius. Pelayo baffled them with a troop of mountaineers, the wreck and remnant of the nation. This hero was strengthened by the accident of his royal descent; but it was not for his birth that his fellow soldiers lifted him upon a shield, and in the hour of difficulty and danger acclaimed him King. In a strong country, with the defiles of which he was well acquainted, he maintained himself against the neighbouring Moors. His own weakness was his best security ; foes like these were beneath the notice of the conqueror ; he who had overthrown the kingdom of the Goths did not stop to exterminate a handful of banditti. Once already had Musa crost the Pyrenees and advanced as far as Carcassonne : he now proposed to overrun France, proceed through Germany and INTRODUCTION. 193 Hungary to Constantinople, and by this line of conquests, con- nect Spain with the Saracen empire. For this enterprise he waa preparing when a courier seized the bridle of his horse, and commanded him in the Caliph's name to set out for Damascus. There was retribution in this. Musa had imprisoned Tarif because he envied his glory ; he himself was now arrested in his own career, and detained in Syria, while secret orders were sent' to destroy his whole family. All who were in Africa were cut off. His son Abdalazis, a man worthy of a better fate, had been left governor in Spain ; but the commanders of every town at this time exercised independent authority, and his power was little more than nominal. To strengthen himself by con- ciliating the Christians, he married Egilona, widow of the late King; her foolish bigotry was one occasion of his ruin. Finding it impossible to convert her husband, she placed saint-images in all her apartments, and made the doors so low that he could not enter, without bowing his head before her idols. The Moorish Chiefs interpreted this as an artifice on his part to entrap them into a gesture which was an acknowledgment of their inferiority. His views were too generous for their com- prehension. He wished to introduce the Gothic forms of freedom, and with that view assembled them in a Cortes. They murdered him, that the anarchy might continue. His head was sent to Damascus, and the Caliph bade Musa look, if he knew the face. The broken-hearted old man retired to Mecca, seek- ing there for that consolation which, such is the blessed nature of religion, every religion however corrupted, can in some degree bestow ; and there he ended his days. Spain was so distant from the capital of the Caliphs, that they were continually exerting their authority there, lest their weak- ness should be discovered. For this reason it was their policy frequently to change the Governor, a system every way pernicious, which allowed integrity no time to be useful, and hurried avarice into rapacity. A few plundering expeditions were made beyond the Pyrenees, while tyranny and extortion provoked frequent commotions at home. At length Abderrahinan, as well to employ a restless people as to gratify his own ambition, collected a prodigious army, and burst into France. The cause of civilized society has never been exposed to equal danger, since the Athenians preserved it at Salamis. Charles Martei met him by Tours, and destroyed him and his army. To re- venge this defeat was for awhile the great object of the Moors, and Christendom was still saved by the same hero. Dissen- o J94 INTRODUCTION. sions broke out between the original conquerors, and the Moors who had nocked over from Africa : an army of Syrians was called in, and they soon became a third party. Meantime Pelayo and the Spaniards strengthened themselves in Asturias. Wherever they advanced they found a number of Christians ready to assist in recovering their country. Under Alonso the Catholic, they became formidable, and then in their turn weakened themselves. His successor, Froyla, murdered one brother, and was himself murdered by another, who seized the throne. The insecure Usurper made himself vassal to the Moors, and his only wars were against the slaves in his own kingdom, who had risen upon their Christian masters. The revolution which established the Abbassides in Syria, erected another dynasty and a new empire in Spain. Abdoul- rahman, one of the Ommiades, fled from the massacre of his family, and hid himself, with his child and his brother, in a forest beside the Euphrates, A.D. 749. They were discovered, the boy was slain, the two brethren rode into the river. One, allured by the promise of his pursuers to spare him, turned back from the dangerous passage, and was immediately murdered. Abdoulrahman swam on, and effected his escape. He got into Africa, and had found adherents there who promised to protect him against the Governor, when deputies came over from the Spanish Moors to invite him to the kingdom of Spain as his inheritance. His reign was a perpetual warfare against those who transferred their loyalty with the throne of the Caliphs, or against chiefs who fought for their own aggrandizement," and called it the cause of the Abbassides. Almanzor made one direct effort, and sent Ala with troops from Africa, and the whole weight of his authority, to destroy the last of a rival race. He was at Mecca when the head of Ala, salted and filled with camphor, was nailed against his palace door, and the sight made him rejoice that the sea rolled between him and his enemy. The Ommiade triumphed over every opposer ; established his throne at Cordova, and left the undisputed sovereignty of all the Spanish Moors to his son. The race of Abdoulrahman should not go without their fame. An astrologer predicted to his successor Haccham, a happy and glorious reign, but only of eight years. In the belief of this prediction he reigned with the wholesome fear of death before his eyes, and no act of in- justice or cruelty is of him recorded. Two elder brethren, to whom he had been wisely preferred by his father, attempted to dethrone him : he subdued them, and then settled ample INTRODUCTION. 195 revenues upon these dangerous rivals, when they were at his mercy. Haccham's armies were filled by soldiers who loved him ; and when a father died, the sons received his pay till they also were of an age to serve. The Christians resisted him with courage ; but he pursued them into their mountains, and burnt the palace of their Kings, and so reduced them, that when a wealthy Moor bequeathed his treasures to ransom his countrymen who were in captivity among the Spaniards, none could be found to profit by the bequest. The Pyrenees did not bound his exploits ; he completed the great Mosque at Cordova with the spoils of Narbonne. The liberality of this Caliph was as dangerous to the Christians as his arms. Of his body guard, which consisted of five thousand men, three thousand were renegades. The reign of the second Haccham was more troubled. Always in arms either against the Leonese, or his own rebellious subjects, he was alike terrible to both. A revolt threw Toledo into the hands of the Christians, who were too feeble to keep the metro- polis which they had thus recovered. Another mutiny of the citizens incensed Haccham, and the vengeance which he planned was in the spirit and upon the scale of Asiatic barbarity. Their fellow citizen Amrouz was made Governor ; he lured the affec- tions of the people, and tempted them to plot another rebellion in which he should be their leader ; and he persuaded them that a citadel would be necessary for their defence. They built one, and within it, a palace for their new Chief. This citadel was designed to keep the people in obedience, and Amrouz made the workmen dig a pit secretly within the walls, deep and wide and long. When everything was prepared, Haccham sent his son to Toledo, on some specious pretext. Amrouz entertained him and invited all who possessed either authority or influence in the town to a feast. As they entered, they were seized ; the massacre lasted from morning till midday, and the ready grave was filled with five thousand bodies. No provocation can pal- liate a crime like this; yet all that his subjects complained of in Haccham, were his sloth, his excesses at table, and above all his love of wine. New mutinies excited him to new cruelty ; meantime the Christians insulted his border. A female Moor as she was led away into captivity, called upon Haccham to deliver her. Her appeal was reported to him, and it roused his pride. He entered the Christian territories at the head of a victorious army, sought out the woman, and with his own hand broke her chains. o 2 198 INTRODUCTION. A second Abdoulrahman succeeded. He is called the Victorious, though he was more fortunate against his own rebellious subjects than against the Christians, who gained upon his frontier, or the Normans who plundered his coast. Ma- hommed, the next in succession, left thirty-three sons ; one of his forty-four brethren broke the line of inheritance and seized his nephew's throne. The Usurper was the third Abdoulrahman, the most magnificent of the Moorish Kings of Spain. His history is like a tale of Eastern splendour, with an Eastern moral at the end. To gratify the vanity of a favourite slave, he built a town and called it after her name, Zehra, which signifies the ornament of the world. There were in its palace a thousand and fourteen columns of African and Spanish marble, nineteen from Italian quarries, and a hundred and forty beautiful enough to be presents from the Greek Emperor. The marble walls of the Hall of the Caliph were inlaid with gold ; birds and beasts of gold, studded with jewels, spouted water into a marble basin in its centre ; the basin was the work of the best Greek sculptors, and above it hung the great pearl which had been sent to Abdoulrahman by the Emperor Leon. The extent of the buildings may be imagined by the size of his seraglio, which contained six thousand three hundred persons. This was his favourite abode. After the chase, to which twelve thousand horsemen always accom- panied him, he used to rest in a pavilion in the gardens ; the pillars were of pure white marble, the floor of gold and steel and jewellery, and in the midst there w r as a fountain of quicksilver. Yet Abdoulrahman left a writing which contained this testimony against the vanity of the world. " From the moment when I began to reign, I have recorded those days in which I enjoyed real and undisturbed pleasure : they amount to fourteen. Mortal man, consider what this world is, and what dependence is to be placed upon its enjoyments ! Nothing seems wanting to my happiness ; . . riches, honours, to say everything, sovereign power. I am feared and esteemed by my contemporary princes, they envy my good fortune, they are jealous of my glory, they solicit my friendship. Fifty years have I reigned, and in so long a course of time can count but fourteen days which have not been poisoned by some vexation." The reign of his son Haccham was short and splendid and peaceful. He wanted to enlarge his palace at Zehra : the ground adjoining was the property of a poor woman, who would not for any price sell the inheritance of her fathers ; the work- men took possession by force, and she went to the Cadi Ibo INTRODUCTION. 107 Bechir with her complaint. Ibn Bechir took a large sack, mounted his ass, and rode to the Caliph, whom he found sitting in a pavilion which had been built upon the place ; he pros trated himself and asked permission to fill the sack with earth. Having obtained leave, he filled it, and then requested the Prince would help him to lift it upon the ass. Haccham attempted, b'ut found it too heavy. ' Prince,' then said the Cadi, ' this is but a small part of that land whereof you have wrongfully deprived one of your subjects ; . . how will you at the last judgment bear the burthen of the whole !' He restored the ground, and gave with it the buildings which had already been erected there. The Christians acquired strength during the disturbed reign of the second Haccham. A race of able kings succeeded Alfonso the Chaste. Ramiro, Ordoiio, and another Alfonso, called the Great : then came a feebler line, and the Christians were divided. New states were erected in Navarre, in Catalonia, and in Arragon : if these sometimes rivalled the Kings of Leon they were more dangerous to the Moors, and the common cause was strengthened. But the separation of Castile from Leon, was a dismemberment, an actual loss of strength. The bond of unity once broken, jealousies and wars followed, and the example was mischievous. Galicia was ambitious of becoming indepen- dent like Castile, and frequent rebellions were the consequence. Abdoulrahman profited little by these dissensions : his power was employed in gratifying a passion for splendour, for which he is better remembered than he would have been for a life of greater activity. His son made only one campaign. A sickly boy succeeded him. Mahommed, who was appointed his guardian, was called after the manner of the Orientals, Alhagib, or the Eyelid ; he soon acquired and deserved the name of Almanzor the Victorious, by which he is remembered in history. The genius of this man well nigh proved fatal to the Spanish Chris- tians, weakened as they were by their own divisions. The Leonese looked on with unconcern or with satisfaction while he ravaged Castile, and the Castilians were consoled when Leon suffered in its turn. Two and fifty times did he lead his armies into their country, and return with their spoils. Such terror had he struck into them, that Bermudo retreated with the seat of government from Leon back among the mountains to Oviedo, the bodies of the Kings his predecessors were taken from their graves and removed, and the relics of the Saints and Martyrs packed up for flight. This fear was not without cause. Alman- 198 INTRODUCTION. zor appeared before the walls. Count Guillen was in the city, so far spent with sickness that he could not stand ; nevertheless when he heard that the Moors had make a breach, he ordered his men to arm him and carry him in his bed to the place of danger. There he encouraged the Leonese, more by his presence than by his weak efforts ; but there he maintained the breach three days, and there when another quarter had been forced, ho perished sword in hand, in his bed. The conqueror carried his arms farther and ravaged Galicia. Santiago, the tutelary Saint of Spain, the God of their battles, could not defend his own Church. Almanzor sent the great bells from Compostella to be his trophies, and hung them up as lamps in the Mosque of Cordova. During one of his expeditions, the Christians took advantage of a fall of snow, and occupied the mountain passes to intercept his return. The Moor calmly pitched his camp in the valley, and prepared to make it his dwelling-place. He ploughed and sowed the ground, and so harassed the country behind him, that the Christians offered him a price for his coming harvest, and implored him to depart. They who could not triumph over him while living, insulted him with lying legends when he was no more. They asserted that the Saints whose churches he had profaned, struck him with his mortal sickness, and that when he died the Devil was heard bewailing him along the banks of the Guadalquivir. But the Moor-i wrote truly upon his monument, What he was is seen in his actions ; such a Defender of Spain will not be found after him. Yet the ascendancy which Almanzor obtained by these triumphs eventually ruined the Spanish Moors. Their King had still the nominal authority ; whatever splendour his state required, and whatever luxuries could tend to amuse or effeminate him, were amply afforded him ; but he was actually a prisoner ; he never went beyond the precincts of the palace, and none except the governor's friends were admitted to see him. For a character thus helpless and enfeebled, the people could feel no respect ; and they repeatedly offered the throne to Almanzor ; he was satisfied with the substantial sovereignty which he enjoyed, nor could he be tempted by the wish of leaving a legitimate title to his son Abdalmelic, a man not unworthy of such a father. That son was supported during a short administration by his own moderation and his father's fame. His brother, who succeeded, had less talent and less virtue ; he usurped the royal title, abused his power, and was soon destroyed. Civil wars INTRODUCTION. 199 ensued; tLe Spanish Moors espoused the cause of one adventurer, the Africans who had flocked to follow Almanzor's victories, fought for another ; the race of Abdoulrahman was cut off, and his empire was divided. The petty tyrant of every town now called himself King, and crimes and miseries multiplied with the title. The lower the sceptre sunk, the more hands were stretched out to reach it. Ambition takes no warning from example. Hymeya, one of these wretches, asked the Cordovans to make him King, just as the last puppet had been muidered. They replied, "Do you not see the tumultuous state of the city ? the populace will destroy you." " Obey me to-day," said he, " and kill me to-morrow." Such was the drunken lust for power. The Moors brought with them into Spain the causes of their own destruction, . . desnafci&m and polygamy ; consumptive prin- ciples, which suffered indeed the body to mature, but when the growing energy had ceased, immediately began their morbid and mortal action. These causes produced their inevitable effects, the war of brother against brother, the revolt of towns and provinces, the breaking up of kingdoms. The Spaniards mean- time were free ; they were inferior in numbers, they were less civilized than their enemies, and their history is sullied by acts of worse barbarity ; . . but they were a Christian and a free people. The moral institutions of Christianity gave them a decided and increasing advantage. Even its corruptions were in their favour. Mahommed won his first victory by calling for an army of Angels, when his troops were giving way. He galloped forward, and casting a handful of sand among the enemy, ex- claimed, " Let their faces be covered with confusion 1" TheMoslem believed that the armies of God obeyed his call, and in that faith they were victorious. The deliverers of Spain encouraged their followers by coarser frauds ; a hermit had promised them victory, . . or they had seen visions, . . or the Cross which was their banner, had appeared to them in the sky. The invention of a tutelary Saint to fight their battles, not metaphorically, but in person, was a bolder and more animating fiction. Eamiro had fought a whole day long with the Moors ; he kept the field at night with a broken and dispirited army, who were compelled to abide the next morning's danger, because they were surrounded and could not fly. The King called them togethet and told them that Santiago had appeared to him in a dream, and had promised to be with them in the battle, visibly and bodily, on a white steed, bearing a white banner with a re<| cross. The Leonese, who before this had lost all hope, began 200 INTRODUCTION. the attack, shouting God and Santiago. A knight led them on, riding a white steed, and bearing a white banner with a bloody cross. They utterly defeated the Moors. A general tribute in bread and wine was granted to the Saint's church for ever, and a knight's portion from the spoils of every victory which the Christians should gain. This pious fraud was the resource of genius in distress ; but it had been preluded by deceit, and was systematized into a national mythology. The body of Santiago had been discovered under Ramiro's predecessor ; his grandson Alfonso rebuilt the church of the Apostle with greater magnificence than the Christian Kings before him had ever displayed ; and its priest- hood exercised their ingenuity in inventing legends to the honour of their patron Saint, and to their own emolument. This they did so successfully that Compostella became the great point of European pilgrimage. The merit of this pilgrimage was enhanced by the difficulty and danger of the journey; the pilgrims soon became so numerous that parties of Moorish, and perhaps also of Christian banditti, associated to plunder them. On the other hand, the Canons of St. Eloy erected guest-houses for their accommodation along the road from France, and money and estates were often bequeathed to endow them by individuals and princes. After their example a few hidalgos who were equally devout and warlike, joined their property, and formed themselves into a religious brotherhood for the purpose of protecting the pilgrims. War never stops at defence. They soon found it their duty to attack the Misbelievers : and hence, about fourscore years after the death of the Cid, arose the order of Santiago, which was so long the scourge of the Moors. A regular system of deceit practised by the priests for their own immediate interest, continually freshened and invigorated the enthusiasm of the people. To obtain the profits of a favourite altar was the motive which influenced the inventor of a Martyr's body, or of an Image ; but where Chapels were thus founded, cities sometimes grew. A shepherd told his fellows ihat he had followed a dove towards a rock, whither by her frequent flight, and turning back to him upon the wing, she seemed to invite him : there he had discovered a cavern and an image of the Virgin, at whose feet the Dove remained undis- turbed, being conscious of divine protection. Such was the devotion of the people that a town was soon built there. St. Maria la Blanca was deserted by all its inhabitants for this holier place of residence, but the priests and people go yearly INTRODUCTION. 201 among its ruins to perform a service for the souls of their fore- fathers who are buried there. A pious Spaniard employed his life in improving the great road to Compostella, opening thickets and building bridges along the way. About twenty paces from his little hermitage he made his own tomb. The pilgrims' gratitude did not cease when their benefactor died. His tomb became a place of popular devotion ; a splendid church was at length erected over it, and that church is now the Cathedral of a City, which is called St. Domingo de la Calzada, after his name. A hermit, by name Juan, fixed his dwelling on Mount Uruela, not far from Jaca : he built a chapel on one of its summits, and dedicated it to John the Baptist. Four other Monks joined him : the fame of their piety was bruited abroad, and their chapel became the chosen spot for the devotion of the Christians round about. When Juan died a great multitude assembled at his funeral ; six hundred hidalgos were among them ; they saw their numbers and the strength of the country ; the feeling which had brought them together excited them, they elected a leader, and founded the kingdom of Navarre. The local deities whom their Pagan ancestors had worshipped were less numerous than the Saints who patronized the churches of the Spanish Christians. Every town, almost every village, had been hallowed by the death or burial of Martyrs, to whose wonder-working bodies the faithful were led sometimes by the song of Angels, more frequently by lights hovering over their holy graves. Above all, the Virgin Mother was lavish in her favours to Spain. Once, she descended in person upon a stone pillar, which she left behind her, and which is held at this day in as high veneration by thousands and tens of thousands of Catholics, as the black stone at Mecca is by the Mahomme- dans. Sometimes she sent her image down from Heaven, Sometimes a dove guided the chosen discoverer to the caveru where she had been hidden ; or the hunted beast who ran to her ruined altar was protected by her pity, or struck dead for his intrusion. In the number of her titles the deified Mary ex- ceeded the many- named Diana, as well as in the extent and effect of her worship. In pejrusing the attested history of any one of her images, the reader might think she had imparted to it all her power, did not the Goddess of the next great shrine afford a catalogue of wonders, equally splendid, equally attested, and equally authentic. These miracles were easily managed in darkness, and amid the wilds and ruins of a desolated country. The clergy sometimes, in the confidence of talent, ventured 202 INTRODUCTION. upon a more public and general exhibition. Fernando the Great, A.D. 1063, sent to Benabet King of Seville, requesting that he would let him have the body of St. Justa to remove to Leon. Three Counts and two Bishops were the ambassadors to beg this boon. Benabet said he knew nothing about it, he had never heard of St. Justa, but they were very welcome to her "body if they could find it. Upon this Alvito the Bishop of Leon said they would pray three days for a revelation. At the close of the third day Alvito fell asleep at his prayers, and there appeared to him in a dream an old man, who told him that St. Justa must not be removed. Seville was not to be deprived of a treasure reserved for its glory when it should again become a Christian city, . . but they might have his body instead. . . . And who was he ? , . He was St. Isidore. Alvito humbly en- treated him to be dreamt of twice more, that he might be sure this was not merely a dream ; and the dead Bishop gave the desired proof. At his last appearance he struck the ground thrice with his crosier, saying, " You will find me here, here, here." In the morning three holes were seen in the ground, and upon digging there they discovered his body in full odour. The court and clergy went out from Leon in procession to meet the relics ; the King and his three sons bore the body bare- footed ; all the Monks and Clergy of the city were feasted upon the occasion, and Fernando and the Queen served them at the board. The zeal with which these patron Saints were worshipped was proportionate to the beneficial power which they possessed. They could preserve their own district from pestilence, and if for the sins of the people they sometimes suffered the Infidels to violate their sanctuaries, they never failed to punish the viola- tion. In their beatitude they were still influenced by human feelings, by gratitude, and by national and local affection. A Saint was the representative of his townsmen in Heaven, where he was supposed to receive their prayers, and exert all his in- fluence in their behalf. The religious fervour of the Moors meanwhile was abating. Fanaticism in a few generations becomes bigotry. The belief which the first Mahommedans had chosen was inherited by their children ; in the fathers it had the life and ardour of a new passion ; in the sons it was become habit, inveterate indeed, but cold. This process has been exemplified in every age, and by every sect. The Dominicans and Franciscans of the present day profess the same tenets which their predecessors practised INTRODUCTION. 203 at the massacre and the auto da fe. There are analogies in nature ; the wolf has been tamed into the dog : and swine were once formidable in the forest. In the first years of the Moorish conquest the Christians car- ried on a perpetual war against their invaders. There was no alternative between hostilities and submission ; but during the anarchy which soon weakened the conquerors, their little king- dom acquired a respectable strength, and they could venture to rest from war when peace was convenient. A righteous national hatred was encouraged by their leaders, and this hatred was increased by religious contempt and abhorrence. Yet even these feelings readily gave way whenever either public or in- dividual interest required their sacrifice. A frequent inter- course necessarily subsisted between the two peoples ; discon- tented chiefs fled to a Moorish Court for protection, and the Christian princes, when at war with each other, scrupled not to invite Moorish assistance. It has even been said, that when the kingdom of Arragon was founded, and that compact established between the sovereign and the people which the Arragonese have struggled so nobly, but unsuccessfully to maintain, one of the privileges proposed to them was, that they might choose either a Christian, or a Mahommedan King, at pleasure ; but they re- jected it as a thing which ought not to be thought of. Still the war between the two nations was a war of extermina- tion. Peace was never named, never thought of as a thing pos- sible ; but because perpetual hostilities, would have destroyed both by famine, they made occasional truces by common consent to recover strength for renewing the contest ; or the weaker power purchased a respite by paying tribute, till he believed himself strong enough to revolt. These intervals were short ; the Spaniards could never long endure to be idle ; they had to recover the country of their fathers, an honourable and a holy object ; and war also was the business, the amusement, the passion of the age. It was in war that the chiefs found their sport and their spoil ; that the King at once employed and gratified a turbulent nobility; that the people indulged their worst passions, and believed that they were at the same time atoning for their sins. And what a warfare ! it was to burn the standing corn, to root up the vine and the olive, to hang the heads of their enemies from the saddle-bow, and drive mothers and children before them with the lance ; to massacre the men of a town in the fury of assault; to select the chiefs that they might be murdered in cold blood ; to reserve the women for 204 INTRODUCTION. violation, and the children for slavery : . . and this warfare year after year, till they rested from mere exhaustion. The soldiers of Fernan Gonzalez complained that they led a life like Devils like those in Hell who rested neither day nor night : Our Lord, said they, is like Satan, and we are like his servants, whose whole delight is in separating soul from body. The Spaniards on their part suffered retaliated cruelties, and the perpetual sense of danger. At one time Knights, Nobles, and Kings, never slept without having the war-horse ready- sad died in the chamber. In the beginning of the eleventh century, Navarre, Arragon, and Castile, were united under Sancho the Great. But expe- rience had not taught the Christian Kings good policy, and when accident had joined the separate states, the possessor divided them at his death, desirous that his sons should all be Kings, though thereby they inevitably became enemies. Sancho left Navarre to his eldest son Garcia, Arragon to his bastard son Ramiro, and Castile to Fernando ; and these latter states, which had long been independent, now first received the appellation of kingdom . Sancho had compelled Bermudo the King of Leon to give his sister in marriage to Fernando ; the King of Leon had no children, his sister was his heir, and the kingdom therefore would fall to her husband. Leon had long been declining ; but when the territories of Sancho were divided at his death, Bermudo hoped to recover its old ascendancy, and declared war against his brother-in-law. Fernando called Garcia to his aid, and an obstinate battle was fought. Bermudo, who was a brave man, and confident in his own strength, and in that of his horse Pelay- uelo, rode into the Castilian army, meaning to engage Fernando man to man ; he was slain in the attempt, and Fernando possessed himself of Leon by the double right of conquest and inheritance. The elder brother regarded with impatience the division of his father's kingdoms. Fernando had excited some dispute respecting their boundary, and though no enmity was yet avowed, no fraternal affection existed. It happened that Garcia fell sick ; the Castilian went to visit him at Najara, he discovered that his brother designed to imprison him, and extort a cession of terri- tory for- his ransom, and he hastily departed, and then sent to excuse his departure on the plea of urgent business. He soon feigned sickness and requested Garcia to come and see him ; the King of Navarre came, and was immediately made prisoner : by the help of money he effected his escape, and open war fol- INTRODUCTION. 205 lowed. Garcia invited the Moors to his assistance, and entered Castile. The armies met about four leagues from Bourgos, near Atapuerca. St. Inigo, the Abbot of Oiia, endeavoured to per- suade Garcia to peace ; the good old man was revered by him, and though his persuasions were vain, still continued in the camp, hoping he might yet succeed in his mediation. An old knight called Fortun Sanchez tried also to reconcile the brethren ; he was Garcia's foster-father, and had loved them both from infancy. When he found that his advice and en- treaties were of no avail, knowing the danger of Garcia, and that he could not prevent it, the old man threw off his defensive armour, and with only his sword and spear, went foremost among the enemy to die, that he might not behold the over- throw and destruction of his foster-child. Before the battle began, two knights whom Garcia had unjustly stript of their possessions came to him and demanded that he would redress their wrongs, and for the future respect their privileges. The demand was just, but Garcia gave no ear to it, perhaps provoked that it should be made like a menace in his hour of need. They then renounced their allegiance, and went over to the Castilian army. The other knights who had joined with them in their' remonstrance, did not indeed desert the King, but they served him without good will, and without exertion. There was a band of Leonese, who directed their efforts against him to revenge Bermudo ; the two knights whom Garcia had wronged, fought in their company, and one of them thrust him through with a lance. The wound was mortal. He died upon the field with his head between the Abbot's knees, the pious old man holding it, and praying and weeping over him as he expired A great stone was set up as a monument, by the brook side where he was slain. In consequence of this victory Fernando became the most powerful of all the Kings of Spain, Moor or Christian. It was in his days that the Cid began to distinguish himsel CONTENTS. BOOK I. fECT. I A r, R I. How King Ferrando reigned in Castile . . , . 215 II. Of the lineage of Rodrigo of Bivar 215 III. Of the strife between Count Gomez and Diego Laynez, and how Rodrigo slew him 216 IV. How Rodrigo took the five Moorish kings 217 V. How Ximena Gomez asked Rodrigo of the King in marriage 217 VI. How Rodrigo accepted her for his wife 2 18 VII. How Rodrigo took his wife home, and of the vow which he made. ............... 218 VIII. Of the dispute concerning Calahorra 219 IX. Of the charity of Rodrigo towards the leper .... 219 X. Of the combat which was fought for Calahorra .... 220 XI. How the Counts plotted against Kodrigo 221 XII. How Rodrigo gained a great victory over the Moors . . 222 XIII. Of the taking of Viseu 222 XIV. Of the taking of Lamego 224 XV. Of the siege of Coimbra 224 XVI. How Santiago appeared to the Greek Bishop .... 225 XVII. Of the grant made by the King to the monks of Lorvam 226 XVIII. How Eodrigo was knighted 227 XIX. Of the taking of Monternor 228 XX. How Ruydiez was called the Cid 228 XXL How the Emperor demanded tribute of Spain .... 229 XX II. Of the answer which the King sent 229 XXIII. How the Cid defeated the Lord of Savoy 230 XXIV. How the Pope and the Emperor yielded their demand . 230 XXV. How the King returned into his own land ..... 231 XXVI. How the King divided his dominions 231 XXVII. How the Infante D. Sancho complained of the wrong which was done him 232 XXVIII. Of the death of the King 233 BOOK II. I. How King Don Sancho was wroth at the partition of the kingdoms 234 1C. How the Kings of Navarre and Arragon came against Castile 234 How King Don Sancho defeated the King of Arragoa . 235 Of the beginning of the strife between the brethren . . 236 V . How King Don Sancho had a meeting with his brother King Don Alfonso 237 Ai I. How King Don Garcia sent to ask aid from hia brother King Don Alfonso . 238 VIL How Don Rodrigo Frojaz slew Verna 238 208 CONTENTS. VIII. Of the battle at Agoa de Mayas 239 IX. How King Don Garcia fled to the Moors 240 X. How King Don Garcia went out from Santarem to battle 241 XI. How Alvar Fanez asked the king for a horse and arms . 241 XII. How King Don Sancho was taken, and of the death of Don Rodrigo Frojaz 242 XIII. How Alvar Fanez rescued the king 243 XIV. How King Don Garcia was taken 244 XV. How King Don Sancho went against his brother Alfonso 244 . XVI. Of the battle at Vulpegera 245 XVII. How the Cid delivered King Don Sancho 240 XVIII. How King Don Alfonso fled to the Moors 246 XIX. Of the friendship which Alimaymon showed to King Don Alfonso 247 XX. Of the talk which the Moors held, in what manner Toledo could be taken 248 XXI. How Alimaymon took an oath from King Don Alfonso . 249 XXII. How King Don Sancho crowned himself King of the three kingdoms 250 XXIII. How King Don Sancho went against Zamora .... 251 XXIV. Of the message which the king sent to Dona Urraca . 251 XXV. Of the council which Dona Urraca held, and the answer which she gave 253 XXVI. How the King was wroth with the Cid 255 XXVII. How Dona Urraca resolved to yield the town .... 25G XXVIII. How Vellido Dolfos fled out of the town 257 XXIX. How the men of Zamora warned King Don Sancho of the treason which was designed 258 XXX. How King Don Sancho was slain by treason .... 259 XXXI. How Vellido Dolfos fled to Dona Urraca for protection . 260 XXXII. Of the death of the king 260 BOOK III. I. How it was resolved to impeach the people of Zamora . 262 II. How Don Diego Ordonez made the impeachment . . . 262 III. Of the manner in which the combat was to be performed 264 IV. How Don Arias and his sons resolved to do combat for Zamora 264 V. How Don Arias was persuaded that his son Pedrarias should do battle in his stead 265 VI. Of the first combat 265 VII. Of the second combat 2C6 VIII. Of the third combat, and how it was left undetermined. 267 IX. How King Don Alfonso departed from Toledo .... 268 X. How the Cid would not kiss the King's hand .... 270 XI. Of the oath which King Don Alfonso took ..... 270 XII. How Don Alfonso was crowned King 271 XIII. How King Don Alfonso went to succour Alimaymon . 272 XIV. How the King went into Toledo 272 XV. Of the noble dealing of the King with Alimaymon . , 273 XVI. How my Cid won many battles 274 XVII. How King Don Alfonso was made wroth with the Cid 275 XV1IL How the Cid was wrongfully banished 270 209 rcT. PAGB XIX. How the Cid departed from his own house, being a banished man . 27 XX. How the Burgalese dared not receive him 277 XXI. How the Cid sent to borrow money of the Jews . . . 277 XXII. How the Jews lent the money and took away the chests XXIII. How the Cid went to Dona Ximena at Cardena . . . XXIV. How the Cid took leave of his wife and daughters . . XXV. How the Cid left the kingdom of King Don Alfonso . 279 280 281 282 BOOK IV. I. How the Cid won the castle of Castrejon ...... 283 II. How the Cid sold his spoil to the Moors ...... 283 III. How the Cid went against Alcocer 284 IV. Of the taking of Alcocer 285 V. How the King of Valencia sent orders to take the Cid alive 280 VI. How the Cid was besieged in Alcocer 280 VII. How the Cid went out to give them battle 287 VIII. How Pedro Bermudez carried the banner into the middle of the Moors 287 IX. Of the great victory won by the Cid 28!) X. How the Cid sent a present to King Don Alfonso . . . 28:} XI. How Alvar Fanez presented the horses to the King . . 290 XII. How the Cid departed from Alcocer 291 XIII. How the Cii was received into Zaragoza . . . ^ . . 292 XIV. How the Cid spoiled the country 292 XV. How Don Ramon Berenguer came to take away his spoil from the Cid 293 XVI. Of thegreat bounty of the Cid towards Don Ramon Berenguer 294 XVII. How the Cid won all the lands of Borriana 295 XVIII. How the Cid defeated King Abenalfange and Don Ramon Berenguer 296 XIX. Of the great treason which was committed at Rueda . . 296 XX. How the Cid took the Castle of Rueda 297 XXL How the Cid took King Don Pedro of Arragon prisoner . 298 XXII. How the Cid returned into Castile . . 299 BOOK V. I. How the King of Badajoz would have taken Toledo . . 300 II. How Diego Rodriguez the son of the Cid was slain. . . . 300 III. How King Don Alfonso went against Toledo 301 IV. Of the taking of Toledo 301 V. How Yahia went to spy the state of Valencia .... 302 VI. How Yahia was received into Valencia 303 VII. Of the tax which was raised for barley for the Christians . 304 VIII. How Yahia went against Abenmazot in Xativa .... 305 IX. How Abenalfange came to help Abenmazot 306 X. How Alvar Fanez plundered the country 306 XL Of the covenant which one of the sons of Abdalla Azis made with King Don Alfonso 307 XII. How Alvar Fanez was called away from Valencia . . . 308 XIII. How the Cid went to Zaragoza 309 P 210 CONTENTS. STTCT. PAGB XIV. How the -King of Zaragoza could not win the city as lie thought 309 XV. How Count Ramon Berenguer came against Valencia . . 310 XVI. Of the covenant which was made between King Yahia andtheCid 311 XVII. How Count Ramon came with a great power of French- men against the Cid 312 XVIII. Of the letter which Count Ramon sent unto the Cid . . 3 Hi XIX. Of the letter which the Cid sent in reply 313 XX. How the Cid defeated Count Ramon 314 XXI. Of the death of Abenalfange, and how the Cid became master in the land 315 XXIL How the Cid went to Requena, thinking to meet the king 310 XXIII. How King Don Alfonso banished the Cid a second time . 317 XXIV. How the Cid laid waste the lands of King Don Alfonso, and the King did him justice 318 XXV. How Abeniaf sent to the Almoravides to come against Valencia 318 XXVI. How Valencia was won by the Almoravides 320 XXVII. How Abeniaf put King Yahia to death 320 BOOK VI. I. How Abeniaf was greatly puffed up 322 II. How the Cid sent letters to Abeniaf 322 III. How the Cid laid siege to Juballa 323 IV. How the Cid warred against Valencia 324 V. How the Cid offered to support Abeniaf, who agreed to send away the Almoravides . . 325 VI. How Abeniaf sent great treasures to the Miramamolin . 325 VII. How the Cid won the suburb of Alcudia 320 VIII. How they of Valencia sent away the Almoravides, and made peace with the Cid 327 IX. How Juballa became a great town 328 X. How the Cid made war upon Albarazin 32i) XI. How Abeniaf sent for the Cid 330 XII. How the Cid asked Abeniuf to give him a garden . . . 330 XIII. How they of Valencia took courage because of the approach of the Almoravides 331 XIV. Of the great rain and wind which caused the Almoravides to turn back 331 XV. Of the great price of food in Valencia, and how the suburbs were destroyed 332 XVI. How the Almoravides returned into their own country . 334 XVII. Of the lamentation which was made for Valencici . . . 334 XVIII.' How they of Valencia put their trust again in Abeniaf . 335 XIX. How Abeniaf took the sons of Aboegib and delivered them to the Cid 33G XX. How Abeniaf went out to meet the Cid, and how he would not keep the terms which were made .... 338 XXI. Of the pride and tyranny of Abeniaf ; and how the price of food waxed more and more 339 CONTENTS. 211 SECT. PAGE XXIT. Of the famine which there was in Valencia 340 XXIII. How they sent to ask aid of the King of Zaragoza . . 340 XXIV. Of the answer of the King of Zaragoza, and of the search which Abeniaf made for food 341 XXV. How the King of Zaragoza sent letters to Valencia . . 342 XXVI. How Abenmoxiz rose against Abeniaf, and ho\v he was taken 343 XXVII. How the Cid attacked the city and was put to the worst, and of the great cruelty which he committed upon the Moors 344 XXVIII. How the people went to an Alfaqui, and it was accorded that he should go between them and the Cid . . . 345 XXIX. How the Cid made Martin Pelaez of a coward a good knight 34G XXX. How the city was to be yielded up, if succour did not come within fifteen days 349 XXXI. Of the riches which were found upon the messengers, and of the price of food 350 XXXII. How the city was yielded up 350 BOOK VII. I. How the people died after the fcamine 352 II. Of the honour which the Cid did unto the Moors . . . 352 III. How the Cid spake unto the Moors 352 IV. What farther the Cid said unto the Moors 354 V. How the promises of the Cid proved false, and how he demanded that Abeniaf should be delivered into his hands 354 VI. How the Moors asked council of Abdalla Adiz, and how they delivered up Abeniaf 356 VII. How the Cid said that he would dwell in the Alcazar, and how he took possession thereof 357 VIII. How Abeniaf was tortured to make him give account of his riches, and he gave a false account, and was stoned 358 IX. Of the speech which the Cid made unto the Moors, telling them that he would have the city to himself . 359 X. How the King of Seville came against Valencia, and was defeated 360 XI. How the Cid numbered his people 361 XII. How there came a Bishop to Valencia, and the Cid made the city a bishopric for him 361 XIII. How the Cid sent for his wife and daughters .... 362 XIV. How these messengers came to the king, and of the great favour which was shown them 362 XV. How they came to Burgos, and how Dona Ximena and her daughters left the monastery to go with them to Valencia 364 XVI. How Dona Ximena and her daughters came to Valencia 365 XVII. How tidings came that the Miramainolin was coming against Valencia 368 XVIIL How the Cid took his wife and daughters upon the tower, that they might see the Moors land .... 369 p 2 212 CONTENTS. SECT. XIX. Of the council which was taken, after what manner they should attack the Moors 370 XX. Of the great victory which the Cid won over King Yucef 371 XXL How the Cid entered the city, and how he gave in marriage the damsels of his wife Dona Ximena . . 372 XXII. Of the great spoil which was found 37 ? XXIII. How King Yucef died, and of the charge he gave his brother to revenge him 373 XXIV. Of the present which the Cid sent unto the king . . . 373 XXV. How the Infantes of Carrion desired to marry the Cid's daughters 375 XXVI. How the meeting was appointed between the King and the Cid 376 XXVII. How they made ready for the meeting 377 XXVIII. Of the meeting 377 XXIX. How the King asked the Cid to give his daughters in marriage to the Infantes 378 XXX. How the Cid dispeeded himself of the king .... 379 XXXI. Of the conditions of the Infantes 380 XXXII. How Alvar Fanez gave his kinswomen to the Infantes . 381 XXXIII. Of the marriage 3H2 ' BOOK VIII. L How King Bucar made ready to revenge his brother King Yucef 303 II. Of the cowardice shown by the Infantes of Carrion when the lion brake loose 383 III. How the Infantes plotted to revenge themselves upon the Cid 384 IV. How the Infantes were afraid when they beheld the great power of the Moors 385 V. Of the message sent by King Bucar to the Cid . . . 386 VI. Of the answer of the Cid 387 VII. Of the order of the Cid's battle 387 VIII. How the Cid defeated King Bucar and twenty-nine ^ kings **389 IX. Of the great spoil which was won by the Christians . . 300 X. How the Infantes said that they would return into their own country : 391 XI. How Dona Ximena mistrusted the evil purpose of the Infantes 392 XII. Of the parting between the Cid and his daughters . . 392 XIII. How the Infantes would have slain Abengalvon . . . 393 XIV. Of the great cruelty which the Infantes committed upon their wives 394 XV. How Felez Munoz found these dames lying in the forest 395 XVI. How Pero Sanchez and the other knights detied the Infantes 396 XVII. How those knights made their complaint to the king . 397 XVIII. How Felez Munoz found a good man who took the dames to his house . 398 XIX. How Diego Tellez took these dames to Santesteban . . 399 CONTENTS. 213 BECT. PAGB XX. How Alvar Fanez demanded justice of the King against the Infantes 400 XXI. How Alvar Fanez went for the dames 401 XXII. How Pero Bermudez returned to Valencia ..... 402 XXIII. How the dames returned to Valencia ....... 403 BOOK IX. I. How the Cid departed for the Cortes 405 II. How the Infantes would fain have been held excused . 405 III. Of the meeting between the Cid and the King . . . 406 IV. How tha Cid sent his ivory seat to be placed in the palace 407 V. Of the strife which was about to rise concerning the ivory seat 407 VI. How the Cid and his knights apparelled themselves and went to the Cortes 408 VII. How the King bade the Cid sit on his ivory seat . . 409 VIII. How the King appointed Alcaldes to give judgment in this cause 410 IX. How the Cid demanded back Calada and Tizona . . , 411 X. How the Cid made his second demand against the Infantes 412 XL How the Cid made his third demand against the Infantes 414 XII. How the Cid defied the Infantes 415 XIII. How Pero Bermudez being angered by the Cid smote down Count Don Garcia 416 XIV. How the King said that he would give sentence in this matter 417 XV. How the battle was appointed, and the Cid named his champions 418 XVI. How the Infantes of Arragon and Navarre sent to ask the daughters of the Cid in marriage 419 XVII. How the Cid committed his three knights to the King's protection 420 XVIII. Of the nobleness with which the Cid distributed his treasure 420 XIX. How the Cid would have given Bavieca to the King . . 421 XX. Of what the Cid said to his three knights 421 BOCK X. I. How the King went to Carrion . ' ' 423 II. How the Infantes sent to desire that Colada and Tizona might not be used against them / 423 III. How they entered the lists 424 IV. Of the combat between Pero Bermudez and Ferrando Gonzalez 425 V. Of the battle between Martin Antolinez and Diego Gon- zalez 426 VI. Of the battle between Muiio Gustioz and Suero Gonzalez 426 VII, How the Infantes of Carrion were declared traitors . . t37 214 CONTENTS. SECT. VIII. Of the great joy which was made in Valencia .... 427 IX. How the Soldan of Persia sent presents to the Cid . . 428 X. Of the presents which the Soldan sent ...... 429 XI. Of what passed between the messenger of the Soldan and the Cid v 430 XII. Of the reason why the Soldan sent this great present . 430 XIII. Of the coming of the Infantes of Arragon and Navarre . 432 XIV. Of the marriage of the Infantes 433 XV. How the messenger of the Soldan was despatched . . 434 XVI. How the Alcalde of Valencia was baptized ^ , . . . *434 BOOK XL I. How tidings came that King Bucar was coming against Valencia . 437 II. How St. Peter appeared unto the Cid 438 III. How the Cid spake to his people 438 IV. How the Cid took to his bed 439 V. How the Cid appointed what should be done after his death 440 VI. How the Cid made his testament and departed . . . 441 VII. How King Bucar came up against the City 442 VIII. How the Christians went out from Valencia .... 443 IX. How King Bucar was utterly discomfited . ' . . . . 444 X. How the Moors went into the city 445 XL How the sons-in-law of the Cid came to meet the body 447 XII. How King Don Alfonso came to do honour to the Cid . 448 XIII. How the body of the Cid was placed in his ivory chair 449 XIV. How the company brake up after this was done . . . 450 XV. Of the care which was taken of Bavieca 450 XVI. Of the death of Dona Ximena 451 t XVII. Of what happened to a Jew who would have taken the Cid by the beard 452 XVIII. How the body of the Cid was interred ...... 453 XIX, Of the death of Gil Diaz 454 X^C How the King of Navarre restored the booty which he had taken in honour to the Cid 454 XXI. How the Cid went to the great battle of the Navas de Tolosa 456 XXII. How King Don Alfonso the Wise removed the body of the Cid 45t XXIII. Of the second removal of the body, and how it was re- solved to remove it again 457 XXIV. Of the ceremonies before the lid of the tomb was lifted . 458 XXV. How the third translation was performed 459 1 XXVI. Of the miraculous rain which fell during this translation 460 ' XXVII. Of the letter which the Emperor issued touching this translation 461 XXVIII. How the tombs were translated to the middle of the great Chapel 463 XXIX. Of the state of those tombs at the present time . . . 463 XXX. Of the relics of the Cid 464 XXXI. How the Cid should have been canonized , , r , , 465 THE CHRONICLE OF THE CID. BOOK L I. KING DON FERNANDO succeeded to the states of Castile after the death of his father King Don Sancho el Mayor, in the era 1072, which was the year of the Incarnation 10P>-L, and from the coming of the Patriarch Tubal to settle in bpam 3197, and from the general deluge 3339, and from the creation of the world 4995, according to the computation of the Hebrews, and from the beginning of the false sect of the Moors 413. And in the year 1037 Ferrando slew Bermudo the King of Leon in battle, who was his wife's brother, and conquered his king- dom, and succeeded to it in right of his wife Dona Sancha. So he was the first person who united the states of Castile and Leon, and the first who was called King of Castile; for till this time the lords of that country had been called Counts. He was a good king, and one who judged justly and feared God, and was bold in all his doings. Before he reigned he had by Dona Sancha his wife the Infanta Dona Urraca, his eldest daughter, who was a right excellent lady, of good customs and bounty and beauty ; and after her he had the Infante Don Sancho, his eldest son and heir ; and then the Infaiita Dona Elvira, whom after the death of the King her father, her brother King Don Alfonso married to the Count Don Garci de Cabra. And after he became King he had the Infante Don Alfonso, and the Infante Don Garcia, who was the youngest of all. And he put his sons to read, that they might be of the better understanding, and he made them take arms, and be shown how to demean themselves in battle and to be huntsmen. And he ordered that his daughters should be brought up in the studies beseeming dames, so that they might be of good customs, and instructed in devotion and in all things which it behoved them to know. II. In those daye arose Kodrigo of Bivar, who was a youtfc 216 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, strong in arms and of good customs; and the people rejoiced in him. for he bestirred himself to protect the land from the Moors. Now it behoves that ye should know whence he came, and from what men he was descended, because we have to proceed with his history. Ye are to know therefore, that after the treason which King Don Ordoiio the Second committed upon the Counts of Castile, that country remained without a chief: the people therefore chose two judges, of whom the one was called Nuuo Rasuera, and the other Layn Calvo, who married Nufio's daughter, Elvira Nuiiez. From Nuilo Rasuera King Don Ferrando descended, and from Layn Calvo, Diego Laynez, who took to wife Dona Teresa Rodriguez, the daughter of Don Rodrigo Alvarez, Count and Governor of Asturias, and had by her this Rodrigo. In the year of the Incarnation 102G was Rodrigo born, of this noble lineage, in the city of Burgos, and in the street of St. Martin, hard by the palace of the Counts of Castile, where Diego Laynez had his dwelling. In the church of St. Martin was he baptized, a good priest of Burgos, whose name was Don Pedro de Pernegas, being his godfather : and to this church Rodrigo was always greatly affectionate, and he built the belfry tower thereof. III. At this time it came to pass that there was strife between Count Don Gomez the Lord of Gormaz, and Diego Laynez the father of Rodrigo ; and the Count insulted Diego and gave him a blow. Now Diego was a man in years, and his strength had passed from him, so that he could not take vengeance, and he retired to his home to dwell there in solitude and lament over his dishonour. And he took no pleasure in his food, neither could he sleep by flight, nor would he lift up his eyes from the ground, nor stir out of his house, nor commune with his friends, but turned from them in silence as if the breath of his shame would taint them. Rodrigo was yet but a youth, and the Cotint was a mighty man in arms, one who gave his voice first in the Cortes, and he was held to be the best in the war, and so powerful that he had a thousand friends among the mountains. Howbeit all these things appeared as nothing to Rodrigo when he thought of the wrong done to his father, the first which had ever been offered to the blood of Layn Calvo. He asked nothing but jus- tice of Heaven, and of man he asked only a fair field ; and his father seeing of how good heart he was, gave him his sword and his blessing. The sword had been the sword of Mudarra in former times, and when Rodrigo held its cross in his hand, he thought within himself that his arm was not weaker than Mudarra's. EODEIGO DIAZ DE BI7AE 217 And he went out and defied the Count and slew him, and smote off his head and carried it home to his father. The old man was sitting at table, the food lying before him untasted, when Rodrigo returned, and pointing to the head which hung from the horse's collar, dropping blood, he bade him look up, for there was the herb which should restore to him his appetite. The tongue, quoth he, which insulted you, is no longer a tongue, and the hand which wronged you is no longer a hand. And the old man arose and embraced his son and placed him above him at the table, saying, that he who had brought home that head should be the head of the house of Layn Calvo. IV. After this Diego being full of years fell asleep and was gathered to his fathers. And the Moors entered Castile, in great power, for there came with them five Kings, and they passed above Burgos, and crossed the mountains of Oca, and plundered Carrion, and Vilforado, and Saint Domingo de la Calzada, and Logrono, and Naj ara, and all that land ; and they carried away many cap- tives both male and female, and brood mares, and flocks of all kinds. But as they were returning with all speed, Rodrigo of Bivar raised the country, and came up with them in the moun- tains of Oca, and fell upon them and discomfited them, and won back all their booty, and took all the five Kings prisoners. Then he went back to his mother, taking the Kings with him, and there he divided the whole spoil with the hidalgos and his other com- panions, both the Moorish captives and all the spoil of whatever kind, so that they departed right joyfully, being well pleased with what he had done. And he gave thanks to God for the grace which had been vouchsafed to him, and said to his mother, that he did not think it good to keep the Kings in captivity, but to let them go freely ; and he set them at liberty and bade them depart. So they returned each to his own country, blessing him for their deliverance, and magnifying his great bounty ; and forthwith they sent him tribute and acknowledged themselves to be his vassals. V. King Don Ferrando was going through Leon, putting the Kingdom in order, when tidings reached him of the good speed which Rodrigo had had against the Moors. And at the same time there came before him Ximena Gomez, the daughter of the Count, who fell on her knees before him and said, Sir, I am the daughter of Count Don Gomez of Gormaz, and Rodrigo of Bivar has slain the Count my father, and of three daughters whom he has left I am the youngest. And, Sir, I come to crave of you a boon,* that you will give me Rodrigo of Bivar to be my husband, with whom 218 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, I shall hold myself well married, and greatly honoured ; for cer- 'tain I am that his possessions will one day be greater than those of any man in your dominions. Certes, Sir, it behoves you to do this, because it is for God's service, and because I may pardon Rodrigo with a good will. The King held it good to accomplish her desire; and forthwith ordered letters to be drawn up to Rodrigo of Bivar, wherein he enjoined and commanded him that he should come incontinently to Palencia, for he had much to communicate to him, upon an affair which was greatly to God's service, and his own welfare and great honour. VI. When Rodrigo saw the letters of his Lord the King he greatly rejoiced in them, and said to the messengers that he would fulfil the King's pleasure, and go incontinently at his com- mand. And he dight himself full gallantly and well, and took with him many knights, both his own and of his kindred and of his friends, and he took also many new arms, and came to Palencia to the King with two hundred of his peers in arms, in festival guise ; and the King went out to meet him, and received him right well, and did him honour ; and at this were all the Counts displeased. And when the King thought it a fit season, he spake to him and said, that Dona Ximena Gomez, the daughter of the Count whom he had slain, had come to ask him for her husband ; and would forgive him her father's death ; wherefore he besought him to think it good to take her to be his wife, in which case he would show him great favour. When Rodrigo heard this it pleased him well, and he said to the King that he would do his bidding in this, and in all other things which he might command ; and the King thanked him much. And he sent for the Bishop of Palencia, and took their vows and made them plight themselves each to the other according as the law directs. And when they were espoused the King did them great honour, and gave them many noble gifts, and added to Rodrigo'fl lands more than he had till then possessed : and h loved him greatly in his heart, because he saw that he was obe- dient to his commands, and for all that he had heard him say. VII. So Rodrigo departed from the King, and took his spouse with him to the house of his mother, and gave her to his mother's keeping. And forthwith he made a vow in her hands that he would never accompany with her, neither in the desert nor in the inhabited place, till he had won five battles in the field. <^nd he besought his mother that she would love her even as she loved, himself, and that she would do good to her and show her $reat honour, for which he should ever serve her with the better EODEIGO DIAZ DE BIVAR. 219 good will. And his mother promised him so to do ; and then he departed from them and went out against the frontier of the Moors. VIII. Now the history relates that King Don Ferrando con- tended with King Don Eamiro of Arragon for the city of Calahorra, which each claimed as his own ; in such guise that the King of Arragon placed it upon the trial by combat, con- fiding in the prowess of Don Martin Gonzalez, who was at that time held to be the best knight in all Spain. King Don Ferrando accepted the challenge, and said that Kodrigo of Bivar should do battle on his part, but that he was not then present. And they plighted homage on both parts to meet and bring each his knight, and the knight who conquered should win Calahorra for his Lord. Having ratified this engagement, they returned into their own lands. And immediately Ferrando sent for Rodrigo of Bivar, and told him all the matter as it then stood, and that he was to do battle. Well pleased was Rodrigo when he heard this, and he accorded to all that the King had said that he should do battle for him upon that cause; but till the day arrived he must needs, he said, go to Compostella, because he had vowed a pilgrimage ; and the King was content therewith, and gave him great gifts. IX. Rodrigo forthwith set out upon the road, and took with him twenty knights. And as he went he did great good, and gave alms, feeding the poor and needy. And upon the way they found a leper struggling in a quagmire, who cried out to them with a loud voice to help him for the love of God ; and when Rodrigo heard this, he alighted from his beast and helped him, and placed him upon the beast before him, and carried him with him in this manner to the inn where he took up his lodging that night. At this were his knights little pleased. And when supper was ready he bade his knights take their seats, and he took the leper by the hand, and seated him next himself, and ate with him out of the same dish. The knights were greatly offended at this foul sight, insomuch that they rose up and left the chamber. But Rodrigo ordered a bed to be made ready for himself and for the leper, and they twain slept together. When it was oid night and Rodrigo was fast asleep, the leper breathed against him between his shoulders, and that breath was so strong that it pas3ed through him, even through his breast; and he awoke, being astounded, and felt for the leper by him, and found him not; and he began to call him, but there was no reply. Then he arose in fear, and called for light^ and it was brought \im ; and he looked for the leper and could see nothing ; go he 220 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, returned into the bed, leaving the light burning. And he began to think within himself what had happened, and of that breath which had passed through him, and how the leper was not there. After awhile, as he was thus musing, there appeared before him one in white garments, who said unto him, Sleepest thou or wakest thou, Rodrigo ? and he answered and said, I do not sleep : but who art thou that bringest with thee such brightness and so sweet an odour ? Then said he, I am Saint Lazarus, and know that I was the leper to whom thou didst so much good and so great honour for the love of God ; and because thou didst this for his sake hath God now granted thee a great gift ; for whensoever that breath which thou hast felt shall come upon thee, whatever thing thou desirest to do, and shalt then begin, that shalt thou accomplish to thy heart's desire, whether it be in battle or aught else, so that thy honour shall go on increasing from day to day ; and thou shalt be feared both by Moors and Christians, and thy enemies shall never prevail against thee, and thou shalt die an honourable death in thine own house, and in thy renown, for God hath blessed thee; therefore go thou on, and evermore persevere in doing good ; and with that he disap- peared. And Eodrigo arose and prayed to our lady and intercessor St. Mary, that she would pray to her blessed son for him to watch over both his body and soul in all his under- takings ; and he continued in prayer till the day broke. Then he proceeded on his w r ay, and performed his pilgrimage, doing much good for the love of God and of St. Mary. X. Now the day came which had been appointed for the combat concerning Calahorra, between Rodrigo and Don Martin Gonzalez, and Kodrigo was not arrived : therefore his cousin Alvar Faiiez Minaya undertook the battle in his stead, and ordered his horse to be harnessed right well. While he was arming himself Rodrigo came up and took the horse of Alvar Faiiez, and entered the lists; Don Martin Gonzalez did the same, and the judges placed them fairly, each in his place, so that neither should have the sun in his eyes. They ran their career, one against the other, and met so fiercely that their lances brake, and both were sorely wounded ; but Don Martin began to address Rodrigo, thinking to dismay him. Greatly dost thou now repent, Don Rodrigo, said he, that thou hast entered into these lists with me ; for I shall so handle thee that never shalt thou marry Dofia Ximena thy spouse, whom thou lovest so well, nor ever return alive to Castile. Rodrigo waxed angry at these words, and he replied, YOU are a good knight, HODntGO DIAZ DB BIVA&. 21 Bon Martin Gonzalez, but these words are not suitable to this place, for in this business we have to contend with hands and not with empty speeches ; and the power is in God who will give the honour as he thinketh best. And in his anger he made at him, and smote him upon his helmet, and the sword cut through and wounded as much of the head as it could reach, so that he was sorely hurt and lost much blood. And Don Martin Gonzalez struck at Rodrigo, and the sword cut into the shield, and he plucked it towards him that with main force he made Rodrigo lose the shield ; but Rodrigo did not forget himself, and wounded him again in the face. And they both became greatly enraged, and cruel against each other, striking without mercy, for both of them were men who knew how to demean themselves. But while they thus struggled Don Martin Gonzalez lost much blood, and for very weakness he could not hold himself upon his horse, but fell from his horse upon the ground ; and Rodrigo alighted and went to him and slew him : and when he had slain him he asked the judges if there was any- thing more to be done for the right of Calahorra : and they made answer that there was not. Then came the King Don Ferrando to him, and alighted by him, and helped to disarm him and embraced him much ; and when he was disarmed he went with him from the field, he and all the Castilians greatly re- joicing ; but as great as was the pleasure of King Don Ferrando and his people, so great was the sorrow of King Don Ramiro of Arragon and of his. And he ordered them to take up Don Martin Gonzalez, and they carried the body into his own lands, and he went with it, and Calahorra remained in the power of King Don Ferrando. XI. But when the Counts of Castile saw how Rodrigo increased day by day in honour, they took counsel together that they should plot with the Moors, and fix a day of battle with them on the day of the Holy Cross in May, and that they should invite Rodrigo to this battle, and contrive with the Moors that they should slay him ; by which means they should be revenged upon him, and remain masters of Castile, which now because of him they could not be. This counsel they sent to communicate to the Moors and to the Moorish Kings who were Rodrigo's vassals, being those whom he had made prisoners and set at liberty. But they, when they saw this counsel and the falsehood which was devised, took the letters of the Counts, and sent them to Rodrigo their Lord, and sent to tell him all the secret of the treason. And Rodrigo thanked them greatly for 222 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, their good faith, and took the letters and carried to the King, and showed him all the enmity of the Counts, and especially of the Count Don Garcia, who was afterwards called of Cabra. When the King saw this as it was, he was astonished at their great falsehood, and he issued his letters in which he ordered them to leave his dominions ; then he went to Santiago on a pilgrimage, and ordered Rodrigo to cast these Counts out of the land ; and Rodrigo did as the King commanded him. Then Dona Elvira his kinswoman, the wife of the Count Don Garcia, came and fell on her knees before him ; but Rodrigo took her by the hand and raised her up, and would not hear her till she was arisen. And when he had raised her up she said, I beseech you, Cousin, since you have banished me and my husband, that you would give us a letter to some King who is one of your vassals, enjoining him to befriend us, and give us something for your sake whereon we may live. So he gave her a letter to the King of Cordova, who received her and her husband well for the love of Rodrigo, and gave Cabra to him, that he and his people might dwell therein. This Count was afterwards so ungrateful to the King of Cordova that he made war upon him from Cabra which the King had given him, till Rodrigo came and took it. XII. The history relateth that at this time while the King was in Galicia, the Moors entered Estremadura, and the people called upon Rodrigo of Bivar to help them. And when he heard the summons he made no delay, but gathered together his kinsmen and his friends, and went against the misbelievers. And he came up with them between Atienza and San Estevan de Gorrnaz, as they were carrying away a great booty in captives and in flocks, and there he had a brave battle with them in the field ; and in fine Rodrigo conquered, smiting, and slaying, and the pursuit lasted for seven leagues, and he recovered all the spoil, which was so great that two hundred horses were the fifth, for the whole spoil was worth a hundred times a thousand mara- vedis. Rodrigo divided the whole among his people without covetousness, and returned with great honour. XIII. Now the greater part of these Moors had been they of Merida, Badajoz, Beja, and Evora, and the King was minded to requite them in their own land according to their deeds ; and he entered into the heart of their country, carrying with him fire and sword, and pressed them sorely so that they yielded vassalage. Then turning through Portugal, he won thtf town of Sea, which was upon the western slope of the Serra da WDEIGO DIAZ DE BIVAti. 228 Estrella : and also another town called Gamne, the site whereo! cannot now be known, for in course of years names change and are forgotten. And proceeding with his conquests he Jaid siege to the City of Viseu, that he might take vengeance for the death of King Don Alfonso, his wife's father, who had been slain before that city. But the people of Viseu, as they lived with this fear before their eyes, had fortified their city well, and stored it abundantly with all things needful, and moreover, they put their trust in their Alcayde, who was an African, by name Cid Alafum, a man tried in arms. He encouraged them, saying that the city could not be taken in ten years, by a greater power than the Christians ; and there were many good arbalisters in the city, who shot so strong that neither shield nor armour availed against their quarrels. King Don Ferrando therefore ordered mantles to be made, and also pavaises to protect his people ; and moreover he enjoined them to fasten boards upon their shields, so that the quarrels from the cross-bows might not pierce through. And he continued for eighteen days to combat the city, keeping such good watch, that neither could they within receive help from without, nor themselves issue forth ; and on the eighteenth day, which was the Vesper of St. Peter's, he won the city by force of arms ; and few were they who escaped from the sword of the conquerors, except those who retreated with Alafum into the Castle. And on the following day at the hour of tierce they also came to terms, and yielded themselves to his mercy, saving their lives. In this manner was Viseu recovered by the Christians, and never after did that city fall into the hands of the barbarians. And the Moor who had slain King Don* Alfonso fell into Ferrando's power, and the King took vengeance and punished him in all the parts which had offended ; he cut off the foot which had pressed down thej* Armatost, and lopped off the hands which had held the bow and fitted the quarrel, and plucked out the eyes which had taken the mark ; and the living trunk was then set up as a butt for the archers. * Alfonso V. having laid siege to Viseu, he rode out one day to re- connoitre, with nothing on hut his shirt and his cloak on account of the heat. This Moor took aim at him, and though he was at a considerable distance from the walls, shot him between the shoulders, being, sa} T s Morales, the first and last of our Kings who died in war against the Moors. He was slain in the year 1027. *h The A rmatoste was an instrument used for charging the cross-bow at this time, as they were not made of steel, says Brito. According to this author the foot was used to press the bow down. 224 CHRONICLE OF TBfi CID, XIV. In all these wars there was not a man who bore greatef part, or did better feats in arms, than Rodrigo of Bivar. And the King went up against Lamego, and besieged it. Now Zadan Aben Huim, son of Huim Alboazem, the King thereof, was mightier than all the Kings who had reigned before him in Lamego, and he had peopled many places from the Douro even to the rivers Tavora and Vouga. And because he was well beloved and his city well stored and strong, all the chief Moors in that district being dismayed by the fall of Viseu, retired into it, to be under his protection. But maugre all their power, King Don Ferrando girt the city round about, and brought against it so many engines, and so many bastilles, that Zadan submitted, and opened his gates on the twenty-second of July, the day of St. Mary Magdalene, being twenty-five days after the capture of Viseu. And Zadan became tributary to the King, and the King took with him many of the Moors, to be employed in building up the churches which had fallen to ruin since the land was lost. XV. All this while was Coimbra in the power of the misbe- lievers. And the Abbot of Lorvam took counsel with his Monks, and they said, Let us go to King Ferrando and tell him the state of the city. And they chose out two of the brethren for this errand. When the Moors therefore who came to hunt among the mountains took up their lodging in the Monastery as they were wont to do, these twain said unto them, We would go to the holy Dominicum, to say prayers there for our sins. So feigning this to be their errand they set forth, and came to the King in the town of Carrion, and spake unto him in council, saying, Sir King, we come to you through waters and over mountains and by bad ways, to tell you concerning Coimbra in what plight it is, if you desire to know, and in what guise the Moors dwell therein, what they are and how many, and with how little heed they keep the city. And he said unto them, I beseech you, for the love of God, say on. Then told they him what they knew : and the King took counsel upon this matter with Rodrigo of Bivar, and Rodrigo said, that certes the Lord would help him to win the city ; and he said that he would fain be knighted by the King's hand, and that it seemed to him now that he should receive knighthood at his hand in Coimbra. A covenant was then made with the two monks that they should go with the army against the city in the /T?onth of January without fail. Now this was in October. Incontinently the King sent to summon his Knights and people, and when one part of them Bad assembled at Santa Maria, he bade them do all the damage DIAZ DE 81VAR. 225 they Could against Coimbra, and ravage the country, which ac- cordingly they did. In the meantime the King made a pilgri- mage to Santiago, as Eodrigo had exhorted him to do ; and he remained there three days and nights in prayer, offering great gifts, arid taking upon himself great devotion, that it might please God to fulfil his desire. And with the help of Santiago he gathered together a great host, and went up against Coimbra in the month of January, even as he had covenanted, and laid siege to it. And he fought against the city all February, and March, and April, May and June, five months did he fig! it, and could not prevail against it. And when July came the food of the besiegers failed them, insomuch that they had only the dole for a few days left : then the baggage was made ready, and the sumpter-beasts and serving-men were ordered to depart fog Leon, and proclamation was made in the camp that the army should remain yet four days, and on the fifth they might break up and depart every one to his own house. But then the Monks of Lorvam and the Abbot consulted together and said, Let us now go to the King and give him all the food which we have, both oxen and cows, and sheep and goats and swine, wheat and barley and maize, bread and wine, fish and fowl, even all that we have ; for if the city, which God forbid, should not be won by the Christians, we may no longer abide here. Then went they to the King and gave him all their stores, both of flocks and herds, and pulse, and wine beyond measure, which they had for a long time stored. Then was there abundance in the camp ; but they who were within the city waxed feeble for hunger and long suffering, because the Christians beset them on all sides, and warred upon them hotly, and brought their engines to bear on every part, and the walls of the city were broken down. When the Moors saw this they came to the King, and fell at his feet, and besought him of his mercy that he would let them depart, leaving to him the city and all that they had therein, for they asked for nothing but their lives. And the Kiog had compassion upon them and granted their prayer ; and the city was yielded to him on a Sunday at the hour of tierce, which was before a week had run out since the Monks of Lorvam had succoured the host. XVI. Now it came to pass that while the King lay before Coimbra, there came a pilgrim from the land of Greece on pil- grimage to Santiago ; his name was Estiano, and he was a Bishop. And as he was praying in the church he heard certain, of the townsmen and of the pilgrims saying that Santiago was Q 226 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, wont to appear in battle like a knight, in aid of the Christiana. And when he heard this it nothing pleased him, ' and he said unto them, Friends, call him not a knight, but rather a fisherman. Upon this it pleased God that he should fall asleep, and in his sleep Santiago appeared to him with a good and cheer- ful countenance, holding in his hand a bunch of keys, and said unto him, Thou thinkest it a fable that they should call me a knight, and sayest that I am not so : for this reason am I come unto thee that thou never more mayest doubt concerning my knighthood ; for a knight of Jesus Christ I am, and a helper of the Christians against the Moors. While he was thus saying, a horse was brought him the which was exceeding white, and the Apostle Santiago mounted upon it, being well clad in bright and fair armour, after the manner of a knight. And he said to Estiano, I go to help King Don Ferrand who has lain these seven months before Coimbra, and to-morrow, with these keys which thou seest, will I open the gates of the city unto him at the hour of tierce, and deliver it into his hand. Having said this he departed. And the Bishop when he awoke in the morning called together the clergy and people of Compostella, and told them what he had seen and heard. And as he said, even so did it come to pass ; for tidings came that on that day and at the hour of tierce, the gates of the city had been opened. XVII. King Don Ferrando then assembled his Counts and chief captains, and told them all that the Monks of Lorvam had done, in bringing him to besiege the city, and in supplying his army in their time of need : and the Counts and chief captains made answer and said, Certes, King, if the Monks had not given us the stores of their Monastery, thou couldest not have taken the city at this time. The King then called for the Abbot and the brethren, for they were with him in the host, and said the hours to him daily, and mass in St. Andre's, and buried there and in their Monastery as many as had died during the siege, either of arrow-wounds or by lances, or of their own infirmities. So they came before him and gave him joy of his conquest ; and he said unto them, Take ye now of this city as much as ye desire, since by God's favour arid your council I have won it. But they made answer, Thanks be to God and to you, and to your forefathers, we have enough and shall have, if so be that we have your favour and dwell among Christians, Only for the love of God, and for the remedy of your own soul, give us one church with its dwelling houses within the city, and confirm unto us the gifts made to us in old times by your fore- UODtilGO DIAZ DE BIVAR. 227 fathers, and the good men to whom God give a happy rest With that the King turned to his sons and his soldiers, and said/ Of a truth, by our Creator, these who desire so little are men of God. I would have given them half the city, and they will have only a single church ! Now therefore, since they require but this, on the part of God Almighty let us grant and confirm unto them what they ask, to the honour of God and St. Mamede. And the brethren brought him their charters of King Ramiro, and King BermudOj and King Alfonso, and of Gonzalo Moniz, who was a knight and married a daughter of King Bermudo, and of other good men. And the King con- firmed them, and he bade them make a writing of all which had passed between him and them at the siege of Coimbra ; and when they brought him the writing, they brought him also a crown of silver and of gold, which had been King Bermudo'a and which Gonzalo Moniz had given to the Monastery in honour of God and St. Mamede. The King saw the crown, how" it wa* set with precious stones, and said to them, To what end bring ye hither this crown ? And they said, That you should take \t f Sire, in return for the good which you have done us. But he answered, Far be it from me that I should take from you? Monastery what the good men before me have given to it ! Take ye back the crown, and take also ten marks of silver, and make with the money a good cross, to remain with you for ever. And he who shall befriend you, may God befriend him ; but he who shall disturb you or your Monastery, may he be cursed by the living God and by his Saints. So the King signed the writing which he had commanded to be made, and his sons and chief captains signed it also, and in the writing he enjoined his children and his children's children, as many as should come after him, to honour and protect the Monastery of Lor vain, upon his blessing he charged them so to do, because he had found the brethren better than all the other Monks in his' dominions. XVIII. Then King Don Ferrando knighted Rodrigo of Bivar in the great mosque of Coimbra, which he dedicated to St. Mary. And the ceremony was after this manner : the King girded on his sword, and gave him the kiss,* but not the blow. To do him more honour the Queen gave him his horse, and the Infanta, * The blow was given with, the hand upon tlie neck, and with these words, Despertad, y no os durmais en las cosas de Cavalier ia, Awake, and sleep not in affairs of knighthood. Bcryanza, 5, 11, 142. He adds that the King omitted this, knowing well that the Cid needed no sucK exhortation. 228 CHRONICLE OF THE CIV, DoHii Urraca fastened on his spurs; and from that "'uy forth He was called Ruydiez.* Then the King comma: cd him to knight nine noble squires with his own hand ; and he took his sword before the altar, and knighted them. The King then gave Coimbra to the keeping of Don Sisnando, Bishop of Iria ; a man, who having more hardihood than religion, had by reason of his misdeeds gone over to the Moors, and sorely infested the Christians in Portugal. B,ut during the siege he had come to the King's service, and bestirred himself well against the Moors ; and therefore the King took him into his favour, and gave him the city to keep, which he kept, and did much evil to the Moors till the day of his death. And the King departed and went to Compostella to return thanks to Santiago. XIX. But then Benalfagi, who was the Lord of many lands in Estremadura, gathered together a great power of the Moors and built up, the walls of Montemor, and from thence waged war against Coimbra, so that they of Coimbra called upon the King for help. And the King came up against the town, and fought against it, and took .it. Great honour did liuydiez win at that siege ; for having to protect the foragers, the enemy came out upon him, and thrice in one day was he beset by them ; but lie, though sorely prest by them, and in great peril, never- theless, would not send to the camp for succour, but put -forth his manhood and defeated them. And from that day the King gave more power into his hands, and made him head over all his household. XX. Now the men of Leon besought the King that he would reperple Zamora, which had lain desolate since it was ^destroyed by Almanzor. And he went thither and peopled the city, and gave to it good privileges. And while he was there came mes- sengers from the live Kings who were vassals to Ruydiez of Bivar, bringing him their tribute ; and they came to him, he being with the King, and called him Cid, which signineth Lord, and would have kissed his hands, but he would not give them his hand till they kissed the hand of the King. And Ruydiez took the tribute and offered the fifth thereof to the King, in token of his sovereignty ; and the King thanked him, but would not * Ruy is merely the abbreviation of Rodrigo. Berganza infers from this passage, that they who aspired to knighthood were called only by their baptismal names, and did not assume the patronymic till they had received the order in signification that they were not to pride them- selves upon hereditary honour till they were able to support it. EODEIGO DIAZ DE BIVAE. 229 receive it, and from that time he ordered that Ruydiez should be called the Cid, because the Moors had so called him. XXI. In those days Pope Victor II. held a council at Florence, and the Emperor Henry there made his complaint against King Don Ferrando, that he did not acknowledge his sovereignty, and pay him tribute like all other Kings ; and he besought the Pope to admonish him so to do. And the Pope being a German, and the friend of Henry, sent to the King to admonish him, and told him, that unless he obeyed he would proclaim a crusade against him ; and in like manner the Emperor, and the King of France, and the other Kings, sent to exhort him to obedience, defying him if he should refuse. When the King saw their letters he was troubled, for he knew that if this thing were done, great evil would follow to Castile and Leon. And he took counsel with his honourable men. They seeing on the one hand the great power of the Church and on the other the great evil that it would be if Castile and Leon should be made tributary, knew not what counsel to give ; howbeit at length they said to him that he should do the Pope's bidding. At this council the Cid was riot present, for he had lately completed his marriage with Dona Ximena Gomez, and was then with her ; but at this time he arrived, and the King showed him the letters, and told him the matter how it then stood, and what had been the advice of his good men, and besought him to speak his advice, as a good and true vassal to his Lord. When the Cid heard what had passed it grieved him to the heart, more for the counsel which had been given to the King, than because of the Pope's commands ; and he turned to the King and said, In an ill day, Sir, were you born in Spain- if it be in your time to be made tributary, which it never was before ; for all the honour which God hath given you, and whatever good he hath done to you, is lost if it should be so. And, Sir, whoever hath given you this counsel is not a true man, neither one who regardeth your honour nor your power. But send to defy them since they will have it so, and let us carry the war home to them. You shall take with you five thousand knights, all of whom are hidalgos, and the Moorish Kings who are your vassals will give you two thousand knights; and, Sir, you are sucba one as God loves, aifd he will not that your honour should perish. And the King thought that he was well counselled by him, for the King was of a great heart. XXII. Then the King ordered letters to be written, in which he besought the Pope not to proceed farther against hini without 230 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, just cause, for Spain had been conquered by those who dwelt therein, by the blood of them and of their fathers, and they had never been tributary, and never would be so, but would rather all die. Moreover he sent his letters to the Emperor and to the other Kings, telling them that they well knew the wrong which the Emperor did him, having no jurisdiction over him, nor law- ful claim ; and he besought them to let him alone that he might continue to wage Avar against the enemies of the faith ; but if they persisted to speak against him he then sent them back , their friendship, and defied them, and where they all were, there would he go to seek them. While this reply was on its way he gathered together his people, as he and the Cid had advised, and set forward with eight thousand and nine hundred knights, both of his own and of the Cid, and the Cid led the advanced guard. When they had passed the passes of Aspa they found that the country was up, and the people would not sell them food ; but the Cid set his hand to, to burn all the country before him, and plunder from those who would not sell, but to those who brought food he did no wrong. And after such manner did he proceed, that wherever the King and his army arrived they found all things of which they could stand in need ; and the news went sounding throughout all the land, so that all men trembled. XXIII. Then Count, Eemon, Lord of Savoy, with the power of the King of France, gathered together twenty thousand knights and came beyond Tolosa, to hold the road against King Don Ferrando. And he met with his harbinger the Cid, who went before him to prepare lodgings, and they had a hard battle; and the men of the Count were discomfited, and he himself made prisoner and many with him, and many were slain. And the Count besought the Cid of his mercy to set him free, saying that he would give him a daughter he had, the which was right fair ; and the Cid did as he besought him, and the daughter was given to him, and he set the Count free. And by this woman King Don Ferrando had his son the Cardinal Ferrando, who was so honourable a man. XXIV. After this the Cid had another battle with all the power of France, and discomfited them, and at neither of these battles did the king and his main army arrive. So the news went sounding before them to the council, of the fierceness of the Cid ; and as they all knew that he was the conqueror of battles, they knew not what to advise ; and they besought the Pope that he would send to them, begging them to turn back, and saying that they did not require tribute. These letters came to the King when he had past Tolosa, and he took counsel RODRIGO DIAZ DE BIVAR. 23t with the Cid and with his good men, and they advised that he should send two of his good men to the Pope, who should tell him to send a Cardinal with power to make a covenant, that persons from the Emperor and from the other Kings also should come to ratify this, and meanwhile he would abide where he was. But if they did not come he would go on to them. Count Don Rodrigo, and Alvar Faiiez Minaya, and certain learned men, were sent with this bidding. And when they came to the Pope .and gave him their letters, he was much dismayed, and he as- sembled the good and honourable men of the council, and asked of them what he should do. And they made answer that he must do as the King willed him, for none was so hardy as to fight against the good fortune of his vassal the Cid. Then the Pope sent Master Roberto, the Cardinal of St. Sabina, with full powers, and the representatives of the Emperor and of the other Kings came also and signed the covenant, that this demand should never again be made upon the King of Spain. And the writings which they made were confirmed by the Pope and by the Emperor and the other Kings, and sealed with their seals. XXY. While this was doing the King abode where he was, beyond Tolosa ; six months did he abide there. And the Pope sent to ask of him the daughter of Count Remon ; and she was then five months gone with child ; and by the advice of his vassal the Cid the King sent her, and sent to tell the Pope the whole truth, requesting that he would see she was taken care of: and the Pope ordered that she should be taken care of tilj the event should be. And she was delivered of the Abbot Don Ferrando ; the Pope was his godfather, and brought him up right honourably, and dispensed with his bastardy that he might hold any sacred dignity ; and in process of time he was made an honourable Cardinal. So the King* returned with great honour into his own land, and from that time he was called Don Ferrando the Great, the Emperor's Peer ; and it was said of him in songs that he had passed the passes of Aspa in despite of the Frenchmen. XXVI. Many other things did King Don Ferrando, which are written in the book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Spain, en- riching churches and monasteries, and honouring the saints and martyrs and making war upon the misbelievers. And it came to pass when he was waxed old, that as he was one day saying his prayers, the confessor St. Isidro appeared unto him, and tolj * Berganza believes everything in the history of this expedition, except the episode of the Lord of Savoy's daughter, which he attributes with good reason to the Joculars. 232 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, him the day and hour when he should die, to the intent that he might make ready and confess his sins, and make atonement for them, and take thought for his soul, so that he might appear clean from offence before the face of God. From that day he, being certain that his end was at hand, began to discharge his soul. And he devised within himself how to dispose of the kingdoms which God had given him, that there might be no contention between his sons after his death ; and he thought it best to divide his lands among them ; but this which he thought best proved to be the worst, and great evil came thereof, for better had it been that he had left all to the eldest. Howbeit it was his pleasure to divide them : he had three sons, Don Suncho who was the eldest, and Don Alfonso who was the second born, and Don Garcia who was the youngest; and two daughters, DoBa Urraca and Dolia Elvira. The manner in which he divided his lands was this : he gave to Don Sancho the kingdom of Castile as far MS to the river Pisuerga, on the side of Leon, with the border, which included the dioceses of Osma, and Segovia, and Avila, and on the side of Navarre as far as the Ebro, as he had won it from his nephew Don Sancho Garcia, King of Navarre. To Don Alfonso he gave the kingdom of Leon, and in Asturias as far as the river Deva, which runs by Oviedo, and part of Campos as far as Carrion and the river Pisuerga, with the border, which contained the dioceses of Zamora, Sala- mancn, and Ciudad Eodrigo, and the city of Astorga, and other lands in Galicia, with the town of Zebreros. To Don Garcia he gave the kingdom of Galicia, and all the lands which he had won in Portugal, with the title of King of Galicia, which country had had no King of its own since the kingdom of the Suevi had been overthrown by King Leovegildo. And to Dona Urraca he gave the city of Zamora with all its dependencies, and with half the Infantazgo ; and the other half, with the city of Toro and its dependencies, to Dona Elvira. XXVII. When the Infante Don Sancho knew that the King his father had made this allotment it displeased him, for he was \he eldest son ; and he said to his father that he neither could nor ought to make this division ; for the Gothic Kings had in old time made a constitution for themselves, that the kingdom and empire of Spain never should be divided, but remain one dominion under one Lord. But the King replied that he would notwfor this forbear to do as he had resolved, for he had won the kingdom : then the Infante made answer, Do as you will, being my father and Lord : but I do not consent unto it, So the King made this division against the right of the Infante Don RODRIGO DIAZ DE BIVAU. 233 Sancho, and it displeased many in the kingdom, and many it pleased ; but they who were of good understanding perceived the evil which would arise. XXVIII. After this the King fell sick with the malady whereof he died. And he made himself be carried to Leon, and there on his knees before the bodies of the saints he besought mercy of them. And putting his crown upon his head before the holy body of St. Isidro he called upon God, saying, O Lord Jesus Christ, thine is the power over all, and thine is the kingdom, for thou art King of all kingdoms, and of all Kings, and of all nations, and all are at thy command. And now Lord I return unto thee the kingdom which thou hast given me, but I beseech thee of thy mercy that my soul may be brought to the light which hath no end. Having said thus, he stript himself of the royal robes adorned with gold in which he was arrayed, and took the crown from his head and placed it upon the altar ; and he put sackcloth upon the carrion of his body, and prayed to God, confessing all the sins which he had committed against him, and took his acquittal from the Bishops, for they absolved him from his sins; and forthwith he there received extreme unction, and strewed ashes upon himself. - After this, by his own order he was carried to St. Mary of Almazan in pilgrimage, and there he remained thrice nine days,^ beseeching St. Mary that she would have mercy upon him and intercede with her blessed Son for his soul. From thence they carried him to Cabezon, and there the Abbot Don Ferrando came to him, an honourable man, and many other honourable men of his realms, and the Cid Ruydiez, whom the King com- mended to the Infante Don Sancho, his son. And after he had put all his affairs in order he remained three days lamenting in pain, and on the fourth, being the day of St. John the Evangelist, he called for the Cardinal abbot, and commended Spain and his other sons to him, and gave him his blessing, and then at the hour of sexts he rendered up his soul without stain to God, being full of years. So they carried him to Leon and buried him near his father, in the Church of St. Isidro, which he had built. Thirty and one .years did King Don Ferrando the Great, who was Peer with the Emperor, reign over Castile. The Queen his wife lived two years after him, leading a holy life; a good Queen had she been and of good understanding, and right loving to her husband : alway had she counselled him well, being in truth the mirror of his kingdoms, and the friend of the widows and orphans. Her end was a good end, like that of the King her husband ; God give them Paradise for their reward. Amen. 834 CHRONICLE OF THE CID. BOOK II. I. THE history relates how after the death of King Don Fer~ rando, the three Kings his sons reigned each in his kingdom, according to the division made by their father, who had divided that which should all by right have descended to the King Don Sancho. Now the Kings of Spain were of the blood of the Goths, which was a fierce blood, for it had many times come to pass among the Gothic Kings, that brother had slain brother upon this quarrel ; from this blood was King Don Sancho descended, and he thought that it would be a reproach unto him if he did not join together the three kingdoms under his own dominion, for he was not pleased with what his father had given him, holding that the whole ought to have been his. And he went through the land setting it in order, and what thing soever his people asked at his hand that did he grant them freely, to the end that he might win their hearts. II. Now when King Don Sancho of Navarre saw that there was a new King in Castile, he thought to recover the lands of Bureva and of old Castile as far as Laredo, which had been lost when the King his father was defeated and slain at Atapuerca in the mountains of Oca. And now seeing that the kingdom of Ferrando was divided, he asked help of his uncle Don Ramiro, King of Arragon ; and the men of Arragon and of Navarre entered Castile together. But King Don Sancho gathered together his host, and put the Cid at their head; and such account did he give of his enemies, that he of Navarre was glad to enjoy Rioja in peace, and lay no farther claim to what his father had lost. Now the King of Castile was \vroth against the King of Arragon, that he should thus have joined against him without cause ; and in despite of him he inarched against the Moors of Zaragoza, and laying waste their country with fire and sword, he came before their city, and gave orders to assault it, and began to set up his engines. When the King of Zara- goza saw the great will which the King had to do evil unto him, and that there was none to help him, he thought it best to come to his mercy, paying tribute, or serving hirn, or in any RODRIGO pIAZ DE BIVAE. 235 manner whatsoever. And he sent interpreters to King Don Sancho saying, that he would give him much gold and silver, and many gifts, and be his vassal, and pay him tribute yearly. The King received them right honourably, and when he had heard their bidding he answered resolutely, being of a great heart, All this which the King of Zaragoza sends to say unto me is well, but he hath another thing in his heart. He sends to bid me break up the siege and depart from his land, and as soon as I should have departed, he would make friends unto himself among Christians and among Moors, and fail me in all which he covenants. Nevertheless I will do this thing which your King requires of me ; but if in the end he lie, I will come back upon him and destroy him, trusting in God that he cannot defend himself against me. And when the interpreters heard this they were greatly dismayed, and they returned and told their King all that he had said. And the Moors seeing that they could not help themselves, made such terms with him as it pleased him to grant, and gave him hostages that they might not be able to prove false. And they gave him gold and silver and precious stones in abundance, so that with great riches and full honourably did he and all* his men depart from the siege. III. Greatly was the King of Arragon displeased at this which King Don Sancho had done, thinking that it was to his great injury and abasement, for Zaragoza he held to be within his conquest. And he came out with all his power to cut off the King's return, and took possession of the way, and said unto him that he should not pass till he had made amends for the great dishonour which he had wrought him, in coming into his conquest and against his vassals : the amends which he required was, that he should yield unto him all the spoil, and all which the King of Zaragoza had given him, else should he not pass without battle. When King Don Sancho heard this, being a. man of great heart, he made answer, that he was the head of the kingdoms of Castile and Leon, and all the conquests in Spain were his, for the Kings of Arragon had no conquests ap- pertaining unto them, being by right" his tributaries, and bound to appear at his Cortes. Wherefore he counselled him to waive this demand, and let him pass in peace. But the King of Arragon drew up his host for battle, and the onset was made, and heavy blows were dealt on both sides, and many horses were left without a master. And while the battle was yet upon the chance. King Don Sancho riding right bravely through the battle, began to call out Castile ! Castile ! and charged the main 236 ( CHRONICLE OF THE 0ZD, body "k> fiercely that by fine force he broke them; and when they were thus broken the Castilians began cruelly to slay them, so that King Don Sancho had pity thereof, and called out unto his people not to kill them, for they were Christians. Then King Don Eamiro being discomfited, retired to a mountain, and King Don Sancho beset the mountain round about, and made a covenant with him that he should depart, and that the King of Zaragoza should remain tributary to Castile; and but for this oovenant the King of Arragon would then have been slain, or made prisoner. This was the battle whereof the Black Book of Santiago speaketh, saying, that in this year, on the day of the Conversion of St. Paul, was the great slaughter of the Christians in Porca. In all these wars did my Cid demean himself after his wonted manner ; and because of the great feats which he performed the King loved him well, and made him his Alferez ; so that in the whole army he was second only to the King. And because when the host was in the field it was his office to choose the place for encampment, therefore was my Cid called the Campeador. IV. While King Don Sancho was busied in these wars, King Don Garcia of Galicia took by force from Dona Urraca his sister a great part of the lands which the King their father had given her. And when she heard this she began to lament aloud, saying, Ah King Don Ferrando, in an evil hour didst thou divide thy kingdom, for thereby will all the land be brought to destruction. And now also will be accomplished that which my fosterer Arias Gonzalo said, for now that King Don Garcia who is my younger brother, hath dispossessed me and broken the oath which he made unto my father, what will not the elder do, who made the vow by compulsion, and alway made protestation against the division! God send that as thou hast disherited me, thou mayest speedily thyself in like manner be disherited, Amen ! But when King Don Sancho heard what his brother had done he was well pleased thereat, thinking that he might now bring to pass that which he so greatly desired ; and he assembled together his Ricos-omes and his knights, and said unto them, The King my father divided the kingdoms which should have been mine, and therein he did unjustly ; now King Don Garcia my brother hath broken the oath and disherited Dona Urraca my sister ; I beseech ye therefore counsel me what I shall do, and in what manner to proceed against him, for I will take his kingdom away from him. Upon this Count Don Garcia Ordoftez arose and said, There is not a man in the novniao DIAZ b% BIVAS. 237 / World, Sir, who would counsel you to break the command of your father, and the vow which you made unto him. And the King was greatly incensed at him arid said, Go from before me for I shall never receive good counsel from thee. ' The King then took the Cid by the hand and led him apart, and said unto him, Thou well knowest, my Cid, that when the King my father commended thee unto me, he charged me upon pain of his curse that I should take you for my adviser, and whatever I did that I should do it with your counsel, and I have done so even until this day ; and thou hast alway counselled rne for the best, and for this I have given thee a county in my kingdom, holding it well bestowed. Now then I beseech you advise me how best to recover these kingdoms, for if I have not counsel from you I do not expect to have it from any man in the world. V. Greatly troubled at this was the Cid, and he answered and said, 111, Sir, would it behove me to counsel you that you should go against the will of your father. You well know that when I went to Cabezon unto him, after he had divided his kingdoms, how he made me swear to him that I would alway counsel his sons the best I could, and never give them ill counsel ; and while I can, thus must I continue to do. But the King answered, My Cid, I do not hold that in this I am breaking the oath made to my father, for I ever said that the partition should not be, and the oath which I made was forced upon me. Now King Don Garcia my brother hath broken the oath, and all these kingdoms by right are mine : and therefore I will that you counsel me how I may unite them, for from so doing there is nothing in this world which shall prevent me, except it be death. Then when the Cid saw that he could by no means turn him from that course, he advised him to obtain the love of his brother King Don Alfonso, that he might grant him passage through his kingdom to go against Don Garcia : and if this should be refused he counselled him not to make the attempt. And the King saw that his counsel was good, and sent his letters to King Don Alfonso beseeching him to meet him at Sahagun. When King Don Alfonso received the letters he mar- velled to what end this might be : howbeit he sent to say that he would meet him. And the two Kings met in Sahagun. And King Don Sancho said, Brother, you well know that King Don Garcia our brother hath broken the oath made unto our father, and disherited our sister Dona Urraca ; for this I will take his iingdom away from him, and I beseech you join with me. But 238 CHRONICLE OF THE CIS, Don Alfonso answered that he would not go against tliQ will of his father, and the oath which he had sworn. Then King Don Sancho said, that if he would let him pass through his kingdom he would give him part of what he should gain : and King Don Alfonso agreed to this. And upon this matter they fixed another day to meet ; and then forty knights were named, twenty for Castile and twenty for Leon, as vouchers that this which they covenanted should be faithfully fulfilled on both sides. VI. Then King Don Sancho gathered together a great host, Castilians and Leonese, and they of Navarre and Biscay, Asturians and men of Arragon and of the border. And he sent Alvar Fafiez, the cousin of the Cid, to King Don Garcia, to bid him yield up his kingdom, and if he refused to do this to defy him on his part. Alvar Fafiez, albeit unwillingly, was bound to obey the bidding of his Lord, and he went to King Don Garcia and delivered his bidding. When King Don Garcia heard it he was greatly troubled, and he cried out in his trouble and said, Lord Jesus Christ, thou rememberest the oath which we made to our father ! for my sins I have been the first to break it, and have disherited my sister. And he said to Alvar Fafiez, Say to my brother, that I beseech him not to break the oath which he made to our father ; but if he will persist to do this thing I must defend myself as I can. And with this answer Alvar Fanez returned. Then King Don Garcia called unto him a knight of Asturias, whose name was Ruy Ximenez, and bade him go to his brother King Don Alfonso and tell him what had past and how King Don Sancho would take away his kingdom from him ; and to beseech him as a brother that he would not let him pass through his dominions. And King Don Alfonso replied, Say to my brother that I will neither help King Don Sancho, nor oppose him : and tell him that if he can defend himself I shall be well pleased. And with this answer, Euy Ximenez returned, and bade the King look to himself for defence, for he would find no help in his brother. VII. Now Don Garcia was not beloved in his kingdom of Galicia, neither in Portugal, for as much as he showed little favour to the hidalgos, both Galegos and Portuguese, and vexed the people with tributes which he had newly imposed. The cause of all this was a favourite, by name Verna, to whom the King gave so much authority, that he displeased all the chief persons in his dominions, and hearkened unto him in all things; and by his advice it was that he had despoiled his sister Dona Urraca of her lands, and his sister Dofia Elvira also, and had HODEIGO DIAZ DE BIVAR. 239 done other things, whereby Portugal and Galicia were now in danger to be lost. And the knights and hidalgos took counsel together how they might remedy these evils, and they agreed that the King should in the name of them all be advised how ill he was served, and entreated to put away his favourite. Don Rodrigo Frojaz was the one named to speak unto the King ; for being a man of approved valour, and the Lord of many lands, it was thought that the King would listen more to him than to any other. But it fell out otherwise than they had devised, for Verna had such power over the mind of the King, that the ic monstrance was ill received, and Don Rodrigo and the other hidalgos were contumeliously treated in public by the King. Don Rodrigo would not bear this, being a right loyal and valiant man ; and he went one day into the palace, and finding Verna busied in affairs of state, he drew forth his sword and slew him ; then leaving the palace, for none cared to lay hands on him, he left Portugal, and took the road toward France : many of his vassals and kinsmen and friends following him, to seek their fortunes in a country where valour would be esteemed, for they were weary of the bad government of King Don Garcia. VIII. But when King Don Garcia knew of the league which his brethren had made to divide his kingdom between them, it was a greater trouble to him than the death of Verna, and he called his chief captains together and consulted with them ; and they advised him that he should send to recall Don Rodrigo Frojaz, for having him the realm would be secure, and without him it was in danger to be lost. So two hidalgos were sent after him, and they found him in Navarre, on the eve of passing into France. But when he saw the King's letters, and knew the peril in which he then stood, setting aside the remembrance of his own wrongs, like a good and true Portuguese, he turned back, and went to the King at Coimbra. In good time did he arrive, for the captains of King Don Sancho had now gained many lands in Galicia and in the province of Beira, finding none to resist them, and the Count Don Nuno de Lara, and the Count of Monzon, and Don Garcia de Cabra, were drawing nigh unto Coimbra. When Don Rodrigo heard this and knew that the Castilians were approaching, and who they were, he promised the King either to maintain his cause, or die for it; and he besought him not to go into the battle himself, having so many vassals and so good ; for it was not fitting that he should expose himself when there was no King coming against him. And it came to pass that when the scouts gave notice that the Castilians 240 CHRONICLE OF THE C1D, were at hand, he ordered the trumpets to be sounded, and the Portuguese sallied, and a little below the city, at the place which is now called Agoa de Mayas, the two squadrons met. Then was the saying of Arias Gonzalo fulfilled, that kinsmen should kill kinsmen, and brother fall by his brother's hand. But the Portuguese fought so well, and especially Don Rodrigo, and his brothers Don Pedro and Don Vermui Frojaz, that at length they discomfited the Castilians, killing of them five hundred and forty, of whom three hundred were knights, and winning their pennons and banners. Howbeit this victory was not obtained without great loss to themselves ; for two hundred and twenty of their people were left upon the field, and many were sorely wounded, among whom, even to the great peril of his life, was Don Rodrigo Frojaz, being wounded with many and grievous wounds. In this battle was slain the Count Don Fafes Sarracem de Lanhoso, with many of his vassals, he from whom the Godinhos are descended : he was a right good knight. IX. A sorrowful defeat was that for King Don Sancho, more for the quality of the slain than for their number ; and he put himself at the head of his army, and hastened through the midst of Portugal, to go against his brother. And King Don Garcia hearing of his approach, called together his knights and hidalgos, and said unto them. Friends, we have no land whereunto to fly from the King Don Sancho my brother, let us therefore meet him in battle, and either conquer him, or die; for better is it to die an honourable death than to suffer this spoiling in our country. And to the Portuguese he said, Friends, ye are right noble and haughty knights, and it is your custom to have among you few lords and good ones; now therefore make me a good one, which will be to your own great honour and profit ; and if I come out of this struggle well, I shall guerdon ye well, so that ye shall understand the will I have to do good towards ye. And they made answer and said the 1 would stand by him to the last, and that he should not be put down by their default. Then spake he to the Galegos, and said, Friends, ye are right good and true knights, and never was it yet said that lord was forsaken by you in the field. I put myself in your hands, being assured that ye will well and loyally advise me, and help me to |he utmost of your power. Ye see how King Don Sancho my Irother presses upon us, and we have nothing left us but to dia #r to conquer; but if ye know any other counsel, I beseech y(> tell it now. And the Galegos answered, that they would serve and defend him loyally, and that they held it "bestf to EODEIGO DIAZ Dfl B1VAR. 241 Nevertheless they were too few in number to stand against the King Don Sancho : so they retired before him. And Don Garcia took with him three hundred horsemen, and went to the Moors, and besought them to lend him aid against his brother, saying that he would give them the kingdom of Leon. And the Moors made answer, O King, thou canst not defend thyself; how then canst thou give unto us the kingdom of Leon ? How- beit they did him honour and gave him great gifts, and he re- turned to his people and recovered many of the castles which he had lost. X. Then King Don Sancho came against his brother to be- siege him in Santarern. And the Portuguese and Galegos took counsel together what they should do ; for some were of advice that it was better to defend the cities and fortresses which they held, and so lengthen out the war ; others that they should ha- rass the army of the Castilians with frequent skirmishes and assaults, and never give them battle power to power, thinking that in this manner they might baffle them till the winter came on. Don Kodrigo Frojaz was at this time recovering of the wounds which he had received at Agoa de Mayas, and he said unto the King that it behoved him above all things to put his kingdom upon the hazard of a battle ; for his brother being a greater lord of lands than he, and richer in money and more powerful in vassals, could maintain the war longer than he could do, who peradventure would find it difficult another year to gather together so good an army as he had now ready. For this cause he advised him to put his trust in God first, and then in the hidalgos who were with him, and without fear give battle to the King his brother, over whom God and his good cause would give him glorious victory. And to show his own good will to the King, he besought of him the leading of the van for himself and the Counts Don Pedro and Don Vermui Frojaz his brethren, and his two nephews. Greatly was the King Don Garcia en- couraged by his gallant cheer, and he bade his host make ready to give battle to King Don Sancho, as soon as he should arrive ; and he marched out from the city, and took his stand near unto it in a field where afterwards were the vineyards of the town. And when the banners of the Castilians were seen advancing, the Galegos and Portuguese drew up in battle array, Don Rodrigo and his brethren having the van, as he had requested, and a body of chosen knights with them. XI. Count Don Garcia came in the front oi King Don Sancho'e army, and in the one wing was the Count de Monzon R 242 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, and Ccnmt Don Nuno de Lara ; and the Count Don Fruela of Asturias in the other ; and the King was in the rear, with Don Diego de Osma, who carried his banner: and in this manner were they arrayed on the one side and on the other, being ready for the onset. And King Don Garcia bravely encouraged his men, saying, Vassals and friends, ye see the great wrong which the King my brother doth unto me, taking from me my king- dom ; I beseech ye help me now to defend it ; for ye well know that all which I had therein I divided among ye, keeping ye for a season like this. And they answered, Great benefits have we received at your hands, and we will serve you to the utmost of our power. Now when the two hosts were ready to join battle, Alvar Faiiez came to King Don Sancho and said to him, Sir, I have played away my horse and arms ; I beseech you, give me others for this battle, and I will be a right good one for you this day; if I do not for you the service of six knights hold me for a traitor. And the Count Don Garcia, who heard this, said to the King, Give him, Sir, what he asketh ; and the King ordered that horse and arms should be given him. So the armies joined battle bravely on both sides, and it was a sharp onset ; many were the heavy blows which were given on both sides, and many were the horses that were slain at that encoun- ter, and many the men. Now my Cid had not yet come up into the field. XII. Now Don Rodrigo Frojaz and his brethren and the knights who were with them had resolved to make straight for the banner of the King of Castile. And they broke through the ranks of the Castilians, and made their way into the middle of the enemy's host, doing marvellous feats of arms. Then was the fight at the hottest, for they did their best to win the banner, and the others to defend- it; the remembrance of what they had formerly done, and the hope of gaining more honours heartened them ; and with the Castilians there waa their King, giving them brave example as well as brave words. The press of the battle was here ; here died Gonzalo de Sies, a right valiant Portuguese, on the part of Don Garcia ; but on Don Sancho's part the Count Don Nuno was sorely wounded and thrown from his horse ; and Count Don Garcia Ordonez was made prisoner, and the banner of King Don Sancho was beaten down, and the King himself also. The first who encountered him was Don Gomes Echiguis, he from whom the old Sousas of Portugal derived their descent? he was the first who set his lance against King. Don Sancho, and the other one was Don Moninho Herrnigis, and Don EODEIGO DIAZ DE SIVAR. 243 Rodrigo made way through the press and laid hands on him and took him. But in the struggle his old wounds burst open, and having received many new ones he lost much blood, and per- ceiving that his strength was failing, he sent to call the King Don Garcia with all speed. And as the King came, the Count Don Pedro Frojaz met him and said, An honourable gift, Sir, hath my brother Don Rodrigo to give you, but you lose him in gaining it. And tears fell from the eyes of the King, and he made answer and said, It may indeed be that Don Rodrigo may lose his life in serving me, but the good name which he hath gained, and the honour which he leaveth to his descendants, death cannot take away. Saying this, he came to the place where Don "Rodrigo was, and Don Rodrigo gave into his hands the King Don Sancho his brother, and asked him three times if he was discharged of his prisoner; and when the King had answered Yes, Don Rodrigo said, For me, Sir, the joy which I have in your victory is enough ; give the rewards to these good Portuguese, who with so good a will have put their lives upon the hazard to serve you, and in all things follow their counsel, and you will not err therein. Having said this he kissed the King's hand, and lying upon his shield, for he felt his breath fail him, with his helmet for a pillow, he kissed the cross of his sword in remembrance of that on which the incarnate Son of God had died for him, and rendered up his soul into the hands of his Creator. This was the death of one of the worthy knights of the world, Don Rodrigo Frojaz. In all the conquests which King Don Ferrando had made from the Moors of Portugal, great part had he borne, insomuch that that King was wont to say that other Princes might have more dominions than he, but two such knights as his two Rodrigos ; meaning my Cid and this good knight, there was none but himself who had for vassals. XIII. Then King Don Garcia being desirous to be in the pursuit himself, delivered his brother into the hands of six knights that they should guard him, which he ought not to have done. And when he was gone King Don Sancho said unto the knights, Let me go and I will depart out of your country and never enter it again ; and I will reward ye well as long as ye live. But they answered him, that for no reward would they commit such disloyalty, but would guard him well, not offering him anj? injury, till they had delivered him to his brother the King Dosa Garcia. While they were parleying Alvar Fafiez Minaya cams up, he to whom the King had given horse and arms befoul thfl R 2 244 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, battle ; and he seeing the King held prisoner cried out with a loud voice, let loose my Lord the King : and he spurred his horse and made at them ; and before his lance was broken he overthrew two of them, and so bestirred himself that he put the others to flight ; and he took the horses of the two whom he had smote down, and gave one to the King, and mounted upon the other himself, for his own was hurt in the rescue ; and they went together to a little rising ground where there was yet a small body of the knights of their party, and AlvarFanez cried out to them aloud, Ye see here the King our Lord, who is free ; now then remember the good name of the Castilians, and let us not lose it this day. And about four hundred knights gathered about him. And while they stood there they saw the Cid Ruy-_ diez coming up with three hundred knights, for he~~liad not been in the battle, and they knew his green pennon. And when King Don Sancho beheld it his heart rejoiced, and he said, Now let us descend into the plain, for he of good fortune cometh ; and he said, Be of good heart, for it is the will of God that I should recover my kingdom, for I have escaped from captivity, and seen the death of Don Rodrigo Frojaz who took me, and Euydiez the fortunate one cometh. And the King went down to him and welcomed him right joyfully, saying, In happy time are you come, my fortunate Cid; never vassal succoured his Lord in such season as you now succour me, for the King my brother had overcome me. And the Cid answered, Sir, be sure that you shall recover the day, or I will die ; for wheresoever you go, either you shall be victorious or I will meet my death. XIV. By this time King Don Garcia returned from the pursuit, singing as he came full joyfully, for he thought that the King his brother was a prisoner, and his great power overthrown. But there came one and told him that Don Sancho was rescued and in the field again, ready to give him battle a second time. Bravely was that second battle fought on both sides ; and if it had not been for the great prowess of the Cid, the end would not have been as it was ; in the end the Galegos and Portuguese Were discomfited, and the King Don Garcia taken in his turn. And in that battle the two brethren of Don Eodrigo Frojaz, Don Pedro and Don Yermui, were slain, and the two sons of Don Pedro, so that five of that family died that day. And the King Don Sancho put his brother in better ward than his brother three hours before had put him, for he put him in chains and sent him to the strong castle of Luna. XV. When King Don Sancho had done this he took unto EODRIOO DIAZ DE BIVAE. 245 himself the kingdom of Galicia and of Portugal, and without delay sent to his brother King Don Alfonso, commanding him to yield up to him the kingdom of Leon, for it was his by right. At this was the King of Leon troubled at heart ; howbeit he answered that he would not yield up his kingdom, but do his utmost to defend it. Then King Don Sancho entered Leon, slaying and laying waste before him, as an army of infidels would have done ; and King Don Alfonso sent to him to bid him cease from this, for it was inhuman work to kill and plunder the innocent : and he defied him to a pitched battle, saying that to whichsoever God should give the victory, to him also would he give the kingdom of Leon : and the King of Castile accepted ihe defiance, and a day was fixed for the battle, and the place was to be Lantada, which is near unto Carrion. The chief counsellor of King Don Alfonso was Don Pero Ansures, a notable and valiant knight, of the old and famous stock of the Ansures, Lords of Monzon which is nigh unto Palencia ; the same who iv process of time was Count of Carrion and of Saldafia and Liebana, and Lord of Valladolid, a city which was by him greatly increased. This good knight commanded the army of his King Don Alfonso, and on the part of King Don Sancho came Euydiez the Cid. Both Kings were in the field that day, and full hardily was the battle contested, and great was the mortality on either side, for the hatred which used to be between Moors and Christians was then between brethren. And that day also was the saying of Arias Gonzalo fulfilled. But in the end the skill and courage of my Cid prevailed, and King Don Alfonso was fain to avail himself of his horse's feet to save himself. XVI. Nevertheless the power of King Don Alfonso was not yet destroyed, and he would not yield up his kingdom : and he sent to his brother a second time to bid him battle, saying that whosoever conquered should then certainly remain King of Leon ; and the place appointed was at Vulpegera, beside the river Carrion. And the two armies met and joined battle, and they of Leon had the victory, for my Cid was not in the field. And King Don Alfonso had pity upon the Castilians because they were Christians, and gave orders not to slay them ; and Kis brother King Don Sancho fled, i Now as he was flying, my Cid came up with his green pennon : and when he saw that the King his Lord had been conquered it grieved him sorely : howbeit he encouraged him saying, This is nothing, Sir ! to fail or to prosper is as God pleases. But do you gather together 246 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, your people who are discomfited, and bid them take heart. The Leonese and Galegos are with the King your brother, secure as they think themselves in their lodging, and taking no thought of you; for it is their custom to extol themselves when their fortune is fair, and to mock at others, and in this boast- fulness will they spend the night, so that we shall find them sleeping at break of day, and will fall upon them. And it came to pass as he had said. The Leonese lodged themselves in Vulpegera, taking no thought of their enemies, and setting no watch ; and Ruydiez arose betimes in the morning, and fell upon them, and subdued them before* they could take their arms. King Don Alfonso fled to the town of Carrion, which was three leagues distant, and would have fortified himself there in the Church of St. Mary, but he was surrounded and constrained to yield. XVII. Now the knights of Leon gathered together in their ilight, and when they could not find the King they were greatly ashamed, and they turned back and smote the Castilians ; and as it befell, they encountered King Don Sancho and took him prisoner, not having those in his company whom he should have had, for his people considered the victory as their own, and all was in confusion. And thirteen knights took him in their ward and were leading him away, but my Cid beheld them and galloped after them ; he was alone, and had no lance, having broken his in battle. And he came up to them, and said, Knights, give me my Lord and I will give unto you yours. They knew him by his arms, and they made answer, Buydiez, return in peace and seek not to contend with us, otherwise we will carry you away prisoner with him. And he waxed wroth and said, Give me but a lance and I will, single as I am, rescue my Lord from all of ye : by God's help I will do it. And they held him as nothing Ipecause he was but one, and gave him a lance. But he attacked them therewith so bravely that he slew eleven of the thirteen, leaving two only alive, on whom he had mercy ; and thus did he rescue the King. And the Castilians rejoiced greatly at the King's deliverance : and King Don Sancho went to Burgos, and took with him his brother prisoner. XVIII. Great was the love which the Infanta Dofla Urraca bore to her brother King Don Alfonso, and when she heard that be was made prisoner, she feared lest he should be put to ileath : and she took with her the Count Don Peransures, and tvent to Burgos. And they spake with the Cid, and besought him 1 that he would join with them and intercede with the King that he should release his brother from prison, and let him RODEIGO DIAZ DE BIVAR. 247 become a Monk at Sahagun. Full willing was the Cid to serve in anything the Infanta Dona Urraca, and he went with her before the King. And she knelt down before the King her brother, and besought mercy for Don Alfonso, his brother and hers. And the King took her by the hand and raised her from her knees, and made her sit beside him, and said unto her, Now then, my sister, say what you would have. And she besought him that he would let their brother Don Alfonso take the habit of St. Benedict, in the royal Monastery of Sahagun, and my Cid, and Count Peransures and the other chief persons who were there present, besought him in like manner. And the King took my Cid aside, and asked counsel of him whnt lie should do; and the Cid said, that if Don Alfonso were willing to become a Monk, he would do well to set him free upon that condition, and he besought him so to do. Then King Don Sancho, at my Cid's request, granted to Dona Urraca what she had asked. And he released King Don Alfonso from prison, and Don Alfonso became a Monk in the Monastery at Sahagun, more by force than of free will. And being in the Monastery he spake with Don Peransures, and took counsel with him, and fled away by night from the Monks, and went among the Moors to King Alimaymon of Toledo. And the Moorish King welcomed him with a good will, and did great honour to him, and gave him great possessions and many gifts. XIX. When Dona Urraca knew that her brother King Don Alfonso had fled to Toledo, she sent to him three good men of the kingdom of Leon, that they should be his counsellors, for she loved him well. These were Don Pero Ansures, and Don Ferran Ansures, and Don Gonzalo Ansures, all three brethren : and they went with King Don Sancho's permission, for it was God's pleasure. Now Alimaymon rejoiced in the King Don Alfonso, and loved him as if he had been his own son. And Don Alfonso made a covenant with him to love him and defend him and serve him alway, so long as he should remain with him, and not to depart from him without his leave ; and the King covenanted on his side to love him and honour him, and defend him to the utmost of his power. And Alimaymon ordered fair palaces to be edified for him, by the wall of the Alcazar, on the outer part, that the Moors of the city might do no displeasure neither to him nor to his companions : and they were hard by a garden of tho King's that he might go out and disport himself therein when- soever it pleased him. And for these things King Don Alfonso loved to serve King AlmiaymoD. Nevertheless when he saw 248 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, the great honour of the King of Toledo, and how powerful he was and that he was the Lord of so great chivalry, ani of the noblest city which had belonged unto the Gothic Kings, from whom he himself was descended, it grieved him in his heart to see that city in the hand of the Moors : and he said within his heart. Lord God and Father Jesus Christ, it is wholly in thy power to give and to take away, and right it is that thy will should be done, even as thou hast done it to me, to whom thou gavest a kingdom, and it was thy will to take it away from me, and thoii hast made me come hither to serve the enemies who were at the service of the King my father. Lord, I put my hope in thee that thou wilt deliver me from this servitude, and give me a land and kingdom to command, and that thou wilt show unto me such favour that this land and this city shall by me be won, that thy holy body may be sacrificed in it to the honour of Christendom. This prayer he made with great devotion and with many tears ; and the Lord God heard him, as hereafter you shall hear in this history. In those days King Alimaymon was at war with other Moorish Kings his enemies, and King Don Alfonso fought against them on his side, and did such good service that he quelled their power, and they durst no longer offend him. And in time of peace Don Alfonso and his companions went fowling along the banks of the Tagus, for in those days there was much game there, and venison of all kinds ; and they killed venison among the mountains. And as he was thus sporting he came to a place which is now called Brihuega, and it pleased him well, for it was a fair place to dwell in, and abounded with game, and there was a dismantled castle there, and he thought that he would ask the King for this place. And he returned to Toledo and asked it of the King, and King Alimaymon gave it him, and he placed there his huntsmen and his fowlers who were Christians, and fortified the place as his own. And the lineage of these people continued there till Don Juan, the third archbishop of Toledo, enlarged it, and peopled the parish of St. Pedro. XX. It came to pass after this that both the Kings one day came out of Toledo, and passed over the bridge of Alcantara, and went into the royal garden to disport themselves therein and take their pleasure. And at evening Don Alfonso lay down upon a bed to sleep, and King Alimaymon fell in talk with his favourites concerning his city of Toledo, how strong it was and how well provided with all things, and that he feared neither war of Moor nor Christian against it ; and he asked them if it could by any means be lost in war. Then one of them answered EOVUIGO DIAZ DE BIVAR. 240 and said, Sir, if you would not hold it ill, I would tell you how it might be lost, and by no other manner in the world could it be so. And the King bade him say on. And the favourite then said, If this city were beset for seven years, and the bread and the wine and the fruits should be cut down year by year, it would be lost for lack of food. All this King Don Alfonso heard, for he was not sleeping, and he took good heed of it. Now the Moors knew not that he was lying there. And when they had thus spoken Alimaymon arose to walk in the palace, and he saw King Don Alfonso lying there as if he were sleeping: and it troubled him, and he said to his favourites, We did not heed Alfonso who is lying there, and has heard all that we have said. And the favourites made answer, Kill him, Sir. But the King said, How shall I go against my true promise ? moreover he sleepeth, and peradventure hath heard nothing. And they said to him, Would you know whether or not he sleepeth ? and he answered, Yea : and they said, Go then and wake him, and if he have drivelled he hath slept, but if not he hath been awake and hath heard us. Then King Don Alfonso immediately wetted the pillow, and feigned hard to be awakened, so that Alimaymon thought he slept. XXI. And when the Easter of the Sheep* was come, which the Moors celebrate, the King of Toledo w r ent out of the city to kill the sheep at the place accustomed, as he was wont to do, and King Don Alfonso went with him. Now Don Alfonso was a goodly personage and of fair demeanour, so that the Moors liked him well. And as he was going by the side of the King, two honourable Moors followed them, and the one said unto the other, How fair a knight is this Christian, and of what good customs ! well doth he deserve to be the lord of some great land. And the other made answer, I dreamed a dream last night, that this Alfonso entered the city riding upon a huge boar, and many swine after him, who rooted up all Toledo with their snouts, and even the Mosques therein. Certes, he will one day become King of Toledo. And while they were thus communing every hair upon King Don Alfonso's head stood up erect, and Alimaymon laid his hand upon them to press then\ down, but so soon as his hand was taken off they rose again : and the two Moors held it for a great token, and spake with each other concerning it, and one of King Alimaymon'a favourites heard all which they said. And after the sheep had The Bairem of the Turks, on which a sheep was sacrificed. 250 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, been sacrificed they returned into the city, and the favourite told the King what he had heard the two Moors say ; and the King sent for them forthwith, and questioned them, and they re- peated to him what they had said, even as ye have heard. And King Alimaymon said unto them, What then shall I do ? and they made answer, that he should put Don Alfonso to death ; but the King replied, that this he would not do, nor do against the true promise which he had given him, but that he would so deal that no evil should ever come towards himself from Alfonso. So he sent for Don Alfonso and bade him swear that he would xiever come against him, nor against his sons, and that no evil should come against them from him; and King Don Alfonso did as Alimaymon required, and did him homage to this effect. And thenceforth was the King of Toledo more secure of him, and held him -even in greater favour than before. All this while did King Don Alfonso govern himself by the advice of Count Peransures, who alway advised him discreetly and well. XXII. But when King Don Sancho heard how his brother had fled from the Monastery, he drew out his host and went against the city of Leon. The Leonese would fain have maintained the city against him, but they could not and he took the city of Leon, and all the towns and castles which had been under the dominion of his brother King Don Alfonso. And then he put the crown upon his head, and called himself King of the three kingdoms. He was a fair knight and of mar- vellous courage, so that both Moors and Christians were dis- mayed at what they saw him do, for they saw that nothing which he willed to take by force could stand against him. And when the Infanta Dona Urraca, and the men of Zamora, saw that he had quiet possession of both his brothers' kingdoms they feared that he would come against them and disherit his sister also. And for this reason they took Don Arias Gorizalo to be their chief captain, Dona Urraca's foster-father, that by his means they might protect themselves, if need should be. And it came to pass as they had feared, for King Don Sancho knew that his sisters greatly loved Don Alfonso, and he thought that by their counsel he had fled from the Monastery, especially by Dona Urraca's, because Don Alfonso guided himself in all things by her counsel, folding her in place of a mother, for she was a lady of great understanding. And he went forth with his army, and took from the Infanta Dona Elvira the half of the Infan- tazgo which she possessed, and also from Doiia Urraca the other half. And he went against Toro, the city of Doiia Elvira, and UODEIGO DIAZ DE BIVAR. 251 took it; and then he went to Zamora to Dona Urraca, bidding 'her yield him up the city, and saying that he would give her lands as much as she required in the plain country. But she returned for answer, that she would in no manner yield unto him that which the King her father had given her ; and she besought him that he would suffer her to continue to dwell peaceably therein, saying that no disservice should ever be done against him on her part. XXIII. Then King Don Sancho went to Burgos, because it was not the season for besieging a town, being winter. And he sent his letters through all the land, calling upon his vassals to assemble together upon the first day of March in Sahagun, upon pain of forfeiting his favour. Now though the King was yet but a young man, whose beard was but just coming, he was of so great courage that the people feared him, and dared not do otherwise than as he commanded. And they assembled toge- ther in Sahagun on the day appointed ; and when the King heard in what readiness they were, it gladdened him, and he lifted up his hands to God and said, Blessed be thy name, O Lord, because thou hast given me all the kingdoms of my father. And when he had said this he ordered proclamation to be made through the streets of Burgos, that all should go forth to protect the host and the body of the King their Lord. And the day in which they left Burgos they took up their lodging at Fromesta; and the next day they came to Carrion, but the King would not lodge there, and he went on to Sahagun, where the army awaited him, and took up his lodging without the town ; and on the following morning he bade the host advance, and they made such speed that in three days they arrived before Zamora, and pitched their tents upon the banks of the Douro; and he ordered proclamation to be made throughout the host that no harm should be done until he had commanded it. And he mounted on horseback with his hidalgos and rode round the town, and beheld how strongly it was situated upon a rock, with strong walls, and many and strong towers, and the river Douro running at the foot thereof; and he said unto his knights, Ye see how strong it is, neither Moor nor Christian can prevail against it ; if I could have it from my sister either for money or exchange, I should be Lord of Spain. XXIV. Then the King returned to his tents, and incon- tinently he sent for the Cid, and said unto him, Cid, you well know how manifoldly you are bound unto me, both by nature, and by reason of the breeding which the King my father gave 252 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, you ; and when he died he commended you to me, and I have ever shown favour unto you, and you have ever served me as the loyalest vassal that ever did service to his Lord; and I have for your good deserts given unto you more than there is in a great county, and have made you the chief of all my household. Now therefore I beseech you as my friend and true vassal, that you go to Zamora to my sister Dona Urraca, and say unto her again, that I beseech her to give me the town either for a price, or in exchange, and I will give to her Medina de Eio-seco, with the whole Infantazgo, from Yillalpando to Yalladolid, and Tiedra also, which is a good Castle; and I will swear unto her, with twelve knights of my vassals, never to break this covenant between us ; but if she refuseth to do this I will take away the town from her by force. And my Cid kissed the hand of the King and said unto him, This bidding, Sir, should be for othei messenger, for it is a heavy thing for me to deliver it; for I was brought up in Zamora by your father's command, in the house of Don Arias Gonzalo, with Dona Urraca and with his sons, and it is not fitting that I should be the bearer of such bidding. And the King persisted in requiring of him that he should go, insomuch that he was constrained to obey his will. And he took with him fifteen of his knights and rode towards Zamora, and when he drew nigh he called unto those who kept guard in the towers not to shoot their arrows at him, for he was Ruydiez of Bivar, who came to Dona Urraca with the bidding of her brother King Don Sancho. With that there came down a knight who was nephew to Arias Gonzalo, and had the keeping of the gate, and he bade the Cid enter, saying that he would order him to be well lodged while he went to Dona Urraca to know if she would be pleased to see him. So the Cid went in, and the knight went to the Infanta, and told her that Ruydiez of Bivar was come with a message from King Don Sancho ; and it pleased her well that he should be the messenger, and she bade him come before her that she might know what was his bidding; and she sent Arias Gonzalo and the other knights of her party to meet him and accompany him. And when the Cid entered the palace Dona Urraca advanced to meet him, and greeted him full well, and they seated themselves both upon the Estrado. And Dona Urraca said unto him, Cid, you well know that you were brought up with me here in Zamora, in the house of Don Arias Gonzalo, and when my father was at the point of death he charged you that you should alway counsel his sons thfl best you could. Now therefore tell me I beseech you what is RODRIGO DIAZ DE BIVAR. 253 it which rny brother goes about to do, now that he has called up all Spain in arms, and to what lands he thinks to go, whether against Moors or Christians. Then the Cid answered and said, Lady, to messenger and a letter no wrong should be done ; give me safe assurance and I will tell unto you that which the King your brother hath sent me to say. And she said she would do as Don Arias Gonzalo should advise her. And Don Arias answered that it was well to hear what the King her brother had sent to say. Peradventure, said he, he goeth against the Moors, and requires aid of you, which it would be right to give ; and for such service I and my sons would go with him, and I would give fifteen of my people well mounted and armed, and supply them with food for ten years, if he needed them. Dona Urraca then said to the Cid, that he might speak his bidding safely. Then said my Cid, the King your brother sends to greet, you, and beseeches you to give him this town of Zamora, either for a price or in exchange ; and he will give to you Medina de Rio-seco, with the whole Infantazgo, from Villalpando to Valladolicl, and the good castle of Tiedra, and he will swear unto you, with twelve knights his vassals, never to do you hurt or harm ; but if you will not give him the town, he will take it against your will. XXV. When Dona Urraca heard this she was sorely grieved, and in her great sorrow she lamented aloud, saying, Wretch that I am, many are the evil messages which I have heard since my father's death ! He hath disherited my brother King Don Garcia of his kingdom, and taken him, and now holds him in irons as if he were a thief or a Moor : and he hath taken his lands from my brother King Don Alfonso, and forced him to go among the Moors, and live there exiled as if he had been a traitor ; and would let none go with him except Don Peransures and his brethren, whom I sent : and he hath taken her lands from my sister Dona Elvira against her will, and now would he take Zamora from me also ! Now then let the earth open and swallow me, that I may not see so many troubles ! And with that, in her strong anger against her brother King Don Sancho, she said, I am a woman, and well know that I cannot strive with him in battle ; but I will have him slain either secretly or openly. Then Don Arias Gonzalo stood up and said, Lady Dona Urraca, in thus complaining and making lamentation you do incon- siderately ; for in time of trouble it befits us to take thought of what best is to be done, and so must we do. Now then, Lady, give order that all the men of Zamora assemble in St. Salvador's 254 CHRONICLE OF THE CID, and know of them whether they will hold with you, seeing that your father gave them to you to be your vassals. And if they will hold with you, then give not you up the town, neither for a price, nor in exchange; but if they will not, let us then go to Toledo among the Moors, where your brother King Don Alfonso abideth. And she did as her foster-father had ncl- vised, and it was proclaimed through the streets that the men of Zamora should meet in council at St. Salvador's. And when they were all assembled, Dona Urraca arose and said, Friends and vassals, ye have seen how my brother King Don Sancho hath disherited all his brethren, against the oath which he made to the King my father, and now he would disherit me also. He hath sent to bid me give him Zamora, either for a price or in exchange. Now concerning this I would know whereunto ye advise me, and if you will hold with me as good vassals and true, for he saith that he will take it from me whether I will or no ; but if ye will keep my career I think to defend it by God's mercy and with your help. Then by command of the council there rose up a knight who was called Don Nuno, a man of worth, aged, and of fair speech ; and he said, God re- ward you, Lady, this favour which you have shown us in thinking good to come to our council, for we are your vassals, and should do what you command. And we beseech you give not up Zamora, neither for price nor for exchange, for he who besieges you upon the rock would soon drive you from the plain. The council of Zamora will do your bidding, and will not desert you neither for trouble nor for danger which may befall them, even unto death. Sooner, Lady, will we expend all our possessions, and eat our mules and horses, yea sooner feed upon our children and our wives, than give up Zamora, unless by your command. And they all with one accord con- firmed what Don Nuno had said. When the Infanta Dona Urraca heard this she was well pleased, and praised them greatly ; and she turned to the Cid and said unto him, You were bred up with me in this town of Zamora, where Don Arias Gonzalo fostered you by command of the King my father, and through your help it was that the King my father gave it unto me to be my inheritance. I beseech you help mo now against my brother, and entreat him that he will not seek Lo disinherit me ; but if he will go on with what he hath begun, Bay to him that I will rather die with the men of Zamora, an