"King Alfonso the Eighth, having exhausted his treasury in war, wishes to lay a tax of five farthings upon each of the Castillan hidalgos, in order to defray the expenses of a journey from Burgos to Cuenca.This proposition of the king was met with disdain by the noblemen who had been assembled on the occasion."Don Nuno, Count of Lara, In anger and in pride, Forgot all reverence for the king, And thus in wrath replied:
"Our noble ancestors," quoth he, "Ne'er such a tribute paid;Nor shall the king receive of us What they have once gainsaid.
"The base-born soul who deems it just May here with thee remain;But follow me, ye cavaliers, Ye noblemen of Spain."Forth followed they the noble Count, They marched to Glera's plain;Out of three thousand gallant knights Did only three remain.
They tied the tribute to their spears, They raised it in the air, And they sent to tell their lord the king That his tax was ready there.
"He may send and take by force," said they, "This paltry sum of gold;But the goodly gift of liberty Cannot be bought and sold."III
"One of the finest of the historic ballads is that which describes Bernardo's march to Roncesvalles.He sallies forth 'with three thousand Leonese and more,' to protect the glory and ******* of his native land.From all sides, the peasantry of the land flock to the hero's standard."The peasant leaves his plough afield, The reaper leaves his hook, And from his hand the shepherd-boy.
Lets fall the pastoral crook.
The young set up a shout of joy, The old forget their years, The feeble man grows stout of heart.
No more the craven fears.
All rush to Bernard's standard, And on liberty they call;They cannot brook to wear the yoke, When threatened by the Gaul.
"Free were we born," 't is thus they cry "And willingly pay we The duty that we owe our king By the divine decree.
"But God forbid that we obey The laws of foreign knaves, Tarnish the glory of our sires, And make our children slaves.
"Our hearts have not so craven grown, So bloodless all our veins, So vigorless our brawny arms, As to submit to chains.
"Has the audacious Frank, forsooth, Subdued these seas and lands?
Shall he a bloodless victory have?
No, not while we have hands.
"He shall learn that the gallant Leonese Can bravely fight and fall, But that they know not how to yield;They are Castilians all.
"Was it for this the Roman power Of old was made to yield Unto Numantia's valiant hosts On many a bloody field?
Shall the bold lions that have bathed Their paws in Libyan gore, Crouch basely to a feebler foe, And dare the strife no more?
"Let the false king sell town and tower, But not his vassals free;For to subdue the free-born soul No royal power hath he!"VIDA DE SAN MILLAN
BY GONZALO DE BERCEO
And when the kings were in the field,--their squadrons in array,--With lance in rest they onward pressed to mingle in the fray;But soon upon the Christians fell a terror of their foes,--These were a numerous army,--a little handful those.
And while the Christian people stood in this uncertainty, Upward to heaven they turned their eyes, and fixed their thoughts on high;And there two figures they beheld, all beautiful and bright, Even than the pure new-fallen snow their garments were more white.
They rode upon two horses more white than crystal sheen, And arms they bore such as before no mortal man had seen;The one, he held a crosier,--a pontiff's mitre wore;The other held a crucifix,--such man ne'er saw before.
Their faces were angelical, celestial forms had they,--And downward through the fields of air they urged their rapid way;They looked upon the Moorish host with fierce and angry look, And in their hands, with dire portent, their naked sabres shook.
The Christian host, beholding this, straightway take heart again;They fall upon their bended knees, all resting on the plain, And each one with his clenched fist to smite his breast begins, And promises to God on high he will forsake his sins.
And when the heavenly knights drew near unto the battle-ground, They dashed among the Moors and dealt unerring blows around;Such deadly havoc there they made the foremost ranks along, A panic terror spread unto the hindmost of the throng.
Together with these two good knights, the champions of the sky, The Christians rallied and began to smite full sore and high;The Moors raised up their voices and by the Koran swore That in their lives such deadly fray they ne'er had seen before.
Down went the misbelievers,--fast sped the bloody fight,--Some ghastly and dismembered lay, and some half dead with fright:
Full sorely they repented that to the field they came, For they saw that from the battle they should retreat with shame.
Another thing befell them,--they dreamed not of such woes,--The very arrows that the Moors shot front their twanging bows Turned back against them in their flight and wounded them full sore, And every blow they dealt the foe was paid in drops of gore.
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Now he that bore the crosier, and the papal crown had on, Was the glorified Apostle, the brother of Saint John;And he that held the crucifix, and wore the monkish hood, Was the holy San Millan of Cogolla's neighborhood.
SAN MIGUEL, THE CONVENT
(SAN MIGUEL DE LA TUMBA)
BY GONZALO DE BERCEO
San Miguel de la Tumba is a convent vast and wide;The sea encircles it around, and groans on every side:
It is a wild and dangerous place, and many woes betide The monks who in that burial-place in penitence abide.
Within those dark monastic walls, amid the ocean flood, Of pious, fasting monks there dwelt a holy brotherhood;To the Madonna's glory there an altar high was placed, And a rich and costly image the sacred altar graced.
Exalted high upon a throne, the Virgin Mother smiled, And, as the custom is, she held within her arms the Child;The kings and wise men of the East were kneeling by her side;Attended was she like a queen whom God had sanctified.
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