His eyes are jet and they are set in crystal rings of snow; But now they stare with one red glare of bra.s.s upon the foe.

But it is not surpa.s.singly like the original:

Vayo en color encendido, Y los ojos como brasa, Arrugada frente y cuello, La frente vellosa y ancha.

But proud as is Harpado, he must give way to the knightly Moor, regarding whom many other tales are told, especially with reference to his love affairs with a fair lady of his own race.

The Zegris' Bride

"The Zegris' Bride" tells in ballad form of the fierce feud between the two Moorish parties in Granada, the Zegris and the Abencerrages, the Montagues and Capulets of the last of the Moorish strongholds, when factious strife certainly accelerated the fall of their city. The ballad is well turned, and attractive in rhythm:

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 weeds of woe.

Such a phrase as "the place of his dominion" is not suited to ballad composition, nor is the four-line rhyming grateful to the ear, although the measure is all that could be desired. Once more I think I see the hand of Scott in this translation, his 'equestrian' rhythm, his fondness for introducing words intended to a.s.sist local colour, as

Of gold-wrought robe or turban--nor jewelled tahali,

which he must, perforce, explain in a note as 'scimitar.' The young Zegri, we are told, is attired for action, not for the cavalcade or procession. Indeed, his armour and even his horse are camouflaged to a.s.sist his pa.s.sage through an enemy's country without observation.

The belt is black, the hilt is dim, but the sheathed blade is bright; They have housen'd his barb in a murky garb, but yet her hoofs are light.

And again:

In darkness and in swiftness rides every armed knight, The foam on the rein ye may see it plain, but nothing else is white.

Lisaro wears on his bonnet a sprig of bay given him by Zayda, his lady.

And ever as they rode, he looked upon his lady's boon.

"G.o.d knows," quoth he, "what fate may be--I may be slaughtered soon."

But he lives to win his bride, as we are told in the curt final verse:

Young Lisaro was musing so, when onwards on the path He well could see them riding slow; then p.r.i.c.k'd he in his wrath.

The raging sire, the kinsmen of Zayda's hateful house, Fought well that day, yet in the fray the Zegri won his spouse.

The Bridal of Andella

"The Bridal of Andella" is brilliant with Oriental colouring:

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cus.h.i.+on 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 cus.h.i.+on down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.

Skilful weaving this. The lady would not look, however, because Andella, who was about to wed another, had been false to her. Ballad literature is scarcely a record of human constancy. In Ballad-land the percentage of faithless swains, black or white, clown or knight, is a high one. Was the law regarding breach of promise first formulated by a student of ballad lore, I wonder? Whatever else it may have effected, it seems to have put an end to ballad-writing, perhaps because it ended the conditions and circ.u.mstances which went to the making of balladeering.

Zara's Earrings

The intriguing ballad of "Zara's Earrings" bears upon it the stamp of natural folk-song. It may come from a Moorish original, but appearances are often deceptive. In any case it is worth quoting in part.

"My earrings, my earrings, they've dropt into the well, And what to say to Muca, 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 Muca give them when he spake his sad farewell, And what to say when he comes back, alas! I cannot tell."

The lady resolves in the end to do the best thing she can--that is, to tell the truth. There is a sequence of romances about this Muca, who seems to have been a Saracen of worth, and the same must be remarked about Celin or Selim, his successor in the collections of Lockhart and Depping. Had Lockhart been well advised, he would have subst.i.tuted the ringing and patriotic "Las soberbias torres mira,"

which is certainly difficult of translation, for the very sombre "Lamentation for the Death of Celin," fine though it is. Anything in the nature of a ceremony or a procession seems to have attracted him like a child. But let us have a verse of the first poem. Even should we not know Spanish its music could not fail to haunt and hold us.

Las soberbias torres mira Y los lejos las almenas De su patria dulce y cara Celin, que el rey le destierra; Y perdida la esperanza De jamas volver a vella Con suspiros tristes dice: "Del cielo luciente estrella, Granada bella, Mi llanto escucha, y duelate mi pena!"

Romantic Ballads

We now come to consider the romantic ballads, the third and last section of Lockhart's collection. "The Moor Calaynos" we have already described, and the same applies to "Gayferos" and "Melisendra,"

its sequel. The ballad which follows these, "Lady Alda's Dream,"

is alluded to by Lockhart as "one of the most admired of all the Spanish ballads." It is no favourite of mine. I may judge it wrongly, but it seems to me inferior, and I much prefer the stirring "Admiral Guarinos," which treads upon its halting heels with all the impatience of a warlike rhythm to spur it on.

Guarinos was admiral to King Charlemagne. In my boyhood days the condition of the British Navy was a newspaper topic of almost constant recurrence, and I was wont to speculate upon the awful inefficiency which must have crept into the Frankish fleet during the enforced absence of its chief in the country of the Moors, for Guarinos was captured by the Saracens at Roncesvalles. His captor, King Marlotes, treated him in a princely manner, but pressed him to become a convert to Islam, promising to give him his two daughters in marriage did he consent to the proposal. But the Admiral was adamant and refused to be bribed or coaxed into the acceptance of the faith of Mohammed and Termagaunt. Working himself up into one of those pa.s.sions which seem to be the especial privilege of Oriental potentates, Marlotes commanded that Guarinos should be incarcerated in the lowest dungeon in his castle keep.

It was the Moorish custom to hale captives to the light of day three times in every year for the popular edification and amus.e.m.e.nt. On one of these occasions, the Feast of St John, the King raised a high target beneath which the Moorish knights rode in an attempt to pierce it with their spears. But so lofty was it that none of them might succeed in the task, and the King, annoyed at their want of skill, refused to permit the banquet to commence until the target was transfixed. Guarinos boasted that he could accomplish the feat. The royal permission was accorded him to try, and his grey charger and the armour he had not worn for seven long years were brought to him.