National Epics Part 38

The honor was to you, not him, the Cid Campeador; For I know something of your worth, and somewhat I can tell.

That day beneath Valencia wall--you recollect it well-- You prayed the Cid to place you in the forefront of the fray; You spied a Moor, and valiantly you went that Moor to slay; And then you turned and fled--for his approach, you would not stay.

Right soon he would have taught you 't was a sorry game to play, Had I not been in battle there to take your place that day.

I slew him at the first onfall; I gave his steed to you; To no man have I told the tale from that hour hitherto.

Before the Cid and all his men you got yourself a name, How you in single combat slew a Moor--a deed of fame; And all believed in your exploit; they wist not of your shame.

You are a craven at the core; tall, handsome, as you stand: How dare you talk as now you talk, you tongue without a hand?

Again, Ferrando, call to mind--another tale for you-- That matter of the lion; it was at Valencia too.

My Cid lay sleeping when you saw the unchained lion near; What did you do, Ferrando, then, in your agony of fear?

Low did you crouch behind the couch whereon the Champion lay: You did, Ferrando, and by that we rate your worth to-day.

We gathered round to guard our lord, Valencia's conqueror.

He rose, and to the lion went, the brave Campeador; The lion fawned before his feet and let him grasp its mane; He thrust it back into its cage; he turned to us again: His trusty va.s.sals to a man he saw around him there; Where were his sons-in-law? he asked, and none could tell him where.

Now take thou my defiance as a traitor, trothless knight: Upon this plea before our King Alfonso will I fight; The daughters of my lord are wronged, their wrong is mine to right.

That ye those ladies did desert, the baser are ye then; For what are they?--weak women; and what are ye?--strong men.

On every count I deem their cause to be the holier, And I will make thee own it when we meet in battle here.

Traitor thou shalt confess thyself, so help me G.o.d on high, And all that I have said to-day my sword shall verify."

Thus far these two. Diego rose, and spoke as ye shall hear: "Counts by our birth are we, of stain our lineage is clear.

In this alliance with my Cid there was no parity.

If we his daughters cast aside, no cause for shame we see.

And little need we care if they in mourning pa.s.s their lives, Enduring the reproach that clings to scorned rejected wives.

In leaving them we but upheld our honor and our right, And ready to the death am I, maintaining this, to fight."

Here Martin Antolinez sprang upon his feet: "False hound!

Will you not silent keep that mouth where truth was never found?

For you to boast! the lion scare have you forgotten too?

How through the open door you rushed, across the court-yard flew; How sprawling in your terror on the wine-press beam you lay?

Ay! never more, I trow, you wore the mantle of that day.

There is no choice; the issue now the sword alone can try; The daughters of my Cid ye spurned; that must ye justify.

On every count I here declare their cause the cause of right, And thou shall own the treachery the day we join in fight."

He ceased, and striding up the hall a.s.sur Gonzalez pa.s.sed; His cheek was flushed with wine, for he had stayed to break his fast; Ungirt his robe, and trailing low his ermine mantle hung; Rude was his bearing to the court, and reckless was his tongue.

"What a to-do is here, my lords! was the like ever seen?

What talk is this about my Cid--him of Bivar, I mean?

To Riodouirna let him go to take his millers' rent, And keep his mills agoing there, as once he was content.

He, forsooth, mate his daughters with the Counts of Carrion!"

Up started Muno Gustioz: "False, foul-mouthed knave, have done!

Thou glutton, wont to break thy fast without a thought of prayer, Whose heart is plotting mischief when thy lips are speaking fair; Whose plighted word to friend or lord hath ever proved a lie; False always to thy fellow-man, falser to G.o.d on high.

No share in thy good will I seek; one only boon I pray, The chance to make thee own thyself the villain that I say."

Then spoke the king: "Enough of words: ye have my leave to fight, The challenged and the challengers; and G.o.d defend the right."

The marshals leave them face to face and from the lists are gone; Here stand the champions of my Cid, there those of Carrion; Each with his gaze intent and fixed upon his chosen foe, Their bucklers braced before their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, their lances pointing low, Their heads bent down, as each man leans above his saddle-bow.

Then with one impulse every spur is in the charger's side, And earth itself is felt to shake beneath their furious stride; Till, midway meeting, three with three, in struggle fierce they lock, While all account them dead who hear the echo of the shock.

Ferrando and his challenger, Pero Bermuez, close; Firm are the lances held, and fair the s.h.i.+elds receive the blows.

Through Pero's s.h.i.+eld Ferrando drove his lance, a bloodless stroke; The point stopped short in empty s.p.a.ce, the shaft in splinters broke.

But on Bermuez, firm of seat, the shock fell all in vain; And while he took Ferrando's thrust he paid it back again.

The armored buckler shattering, right home his lance he pressed, Driving the point through boss and plate against his foeman's breast.

Three folds of mail Ferrando wore, they stood him in good stead; Two yielded to the lance's point, the third held fast the head.

But forced into the flesh it sank a hand's breadth deep or more, Till bursting from the gasping lips in torrents gushed the gore.

Then, the girths breaking, o'er the croup borne rudely to the ground, He lay, a dying man it seemed to all who stood around.

Bermuez cast his lance aside, and sword in hand came on; Ferrando saw the blade he bore, he knew it was Tizon: Quick ere the dreaded brand could fall, "I yield me," came the cry.

Vanquished the marshals granted him, and Pero let him lie.

And Martin Antolinez and Diego--fair and true Each struck upon the other's s.h.i.+eld, and wide the splinters flew.

Then Antolinez seized his sword, and as he drew the blade, A dazzling gleam of burnished steel across the meadow played; And at Diego striking full, athwart the helmet's crown, Sheer through the steel plates of the casque he drove the falchion down, Through coif and scarf, till from the scalp the locks it razed away, And half shorn off and half upheld the shattered head-piece lay.

Reeling beneath the blow that proved Colada's cruel might, Diego saw no chance but one, no safety save in flight: He wheeled and fled, but close behind him Antolinez drew; With the flat blade a hasty blow he dealt him as he flew; But idle was Diego's sword; he shrieked to Heaven for aid: "O G.o.d of glory, give me help! save me from yonder blade!"

Unreined, his good steed bore him safe and swept him past the bound, And Martin Antolinez stood alone upon the ground.

"Come hither," said the king; "thus far the conquerors are ye."

And fairly fought and won the field the marshals both agree.

So much for these, and how they fought: remains to tell you yet How meanwhile Muno Gustioz a.s.sur Gonzalez met.

With a strong arm and steady aim each struck the other's s.h.i.+eld, And under a.s.sur's st.u.r.dy thrusts the plates of Muno's yield; But harmless pa.s.sed the lance's point, and spent its force in air.

Not so Don Muno's; on the s.h.i.+eld of a.s.sur striking fair, Through plate and boss and foeman's breast his pennoned lance he sent, Till out between the shoulder blades a fathom's length it went.

Then, as the lance he plucked away, clear from the saddle swung, With one strong wrench of Muno's wrist to earth was a.s.sur flung; And back it came, shaft, pennon, blade, all stained a gory red; Nor was there one of all the crowd but counted a.s.sur sped, While o'er him Muno Gustioz stood with uplifted brand.

Then cried Gonzalo a.s.surez: "In G.o.d's name hold thy hand!

Already have ye won the field; no more is needed now."

And said the marshals, "It is just, and we the claim allow."

And then the King Alfonso gave command to clear the ground, And gather in the relics of the battle strewed around.

And from the field in honor went Don Roderick's champions three.

Thanks be to G.o.d, the Lord of all, that gave the victory.

But fearing treachery, that night upon their way they went, As King Alfonso's honored guests in safety homeward sent, And to Valencia city day and night they journeyed on, To tell my Cid Campeador that his behest was done.

But in the lands of Carrion it was a day of woe, And on the lords of Carrion it fell a heavy blow.

He who a n.o.ble lady wrongs and casts aside--may he Meet like requital for his deeds, or worse, if worse there be.

But let us leave them where they lie--their meed is all men's scorn.

Turn we to speak of him that in a happy hour was born.

Valencia the Great was glad, rejoiced at heart to see The honored champions of her lord return in victory: And Ruy Diaz grasped his beard: "Thanks be to G.o.d," said he, "Of part or lot in Carrion now are my daughters free; Now may I give them without shame whoe'er the suitors be."

And favored by the king himself, Alfonso of Leon, Prosperous was the wooing of Navarre and Aragon, The bridals of Elvira and of Sol in splendor pa.s.sed; Stately the former nuptials were, but statelier far the _hast_.

And he that in a good hour was born, behold how he _hath_ sped!

His daughters now to higher rank and greater honor wed: Sought by Navarre and Aragon for queens his daughters twain; And monarchs of his blood to-day upon the thrones of Spain.

And so his honor in the land grows greater day by day.

Upon the feast of Pentecost from life he pa.s.sed away.

For him and all of us the Grace of Christ let us implore.

And here ye have the story of my Cid Campeador.

_Ormsby's Translation._

THE DIVINE COMEDY.

"This Poem of the earth and air, This mediaeval miracle of song."

Dante Alighieri was born at Florence, in May, 1265. His family belonged to the Guelph, or Papal faction, and he early took part in the struggle between the parties. In 1274 he first saw Beatrice Portinari, and he says of this meeting in the "Vita Nuova," "I say that thenceforward Love swayed my soul, which was even then espoused to him." Beatrice died in 1290, and Dante married Gemma Donati, between 1291 and 1294. In 1295 he joined the Art of Druggists, in order to become a member of the Administrative Council. In 1300 he was made Prior, and in 1301, when the Neri entered Florence, he was exiled, his property confiscated, and himself sentenced to be burned, if found within the republic. After this he became a Ghibeline, and took up arms against the city with his fellow-exiles, but withdrew from their council at last because of disagreements, and separating from them, spent his time at Verona, Padua, Sunigianda, and in the monastery of Gubbio. In 1316 the government of Florence issued a decree allowing the exiles to return on payment of a fine; but Dante indignantly refused to acknowledge thus that he had been in the wrong. He was in Ravenna in 1320, and died there Sept. 14, 1321, on his return from an emba.s.sy to Venice.

The "Commedia" was written during Dante's nineteen years of exile. The three parts, h.e.l.l, Purgatory, and Paradise, are emblematic of the threefold state of man,--sin, grace, and beat.i.tude. The thirty-three cantos into which each part is divided, are in allusion to the years of the Saviour's life, and the triple rhyme suggests the Trinity.

The Divine Comedy is written in the _terza rima_, which consists of three verses arranged in such a way that the middle line of each triplet rhymes with the first or third verse of the succeeding triplet.