III.

"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 G.o.d 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!"

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-hand 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 I his end may know."--

VII.

The esquires took the little boy aside with them to go; Yet, as they went, they did repent--"O G.o.d! 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 b.i.t.c.h 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 b.i.t.c.h may serve us in good stead--

IX.

"Let us take out the b.i.t.c.h'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.

XI.

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; But 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."[2]

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, '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'--'I will, sir,' quoth the boy, and so proceeding: '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, 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 there 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 shows how proud he is of the burden of his brave master and fair 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.'--'Plainness, boy!' cried Master Peter, 'none of your flights, I beseech you, for affectation is the devil.'--The boy answered nothing, but going on: 'Now, sirs,' quoth he, 'some of those idle people, that love to pry into everything, 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 Sansuena 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 pa.s.s 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, '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 a.s.sist 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!' 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 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."

I.

At Sansuena,[3] 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 Sansuena'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.

III.

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.

"O, if ye be a Christian knight, and if to France you go, I pr'ythee tell Gayferos that you have seen my woe; That you have seen me weeping, here in the Moorish tower, While 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."--

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 has 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.

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 Romance; in which the honour is claimed for him of slaying the famous Orlando, or Roland, the nephew of Charlemagne, in the fatal field of Roncesvalles.

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 Diaz, 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 proposed the inheritance of his throne as the price of the alliance of Charles. But the n.o.bility, 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 pa.s.s 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.