most necessary. The following is a trans- ballads in which this part of Carpio's story lation of one of the oldest of the Spanish is told:

BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO.

"With some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appear'd
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 frown'd, and flame broke from his eyes.

A curse upon thee,' cries the King, who comest unbid to me;
But what from traitor's blood should spring, save traitors like to thee?
His sire, Lords, had a traitor's heart; perchance our Champion brave
May think it were a pious part to share Don Sancho's grave.'

"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?

The blood that I like water shed, when Roland did advance,
By secret traitors brought and led, to make us slaves of France;
The life of King Alphonso I saved at Ronseval,

Your words, Lord King, are recompence abundant for it all.

Your horse was down---your hope was flown---ye saw the faulchion 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 thank'd the son for life and crown by the father's bloody fate.

Ye swore upon your kingly faith, to set Don Sancho free,

But curse upon your paultring breath, the light he ne'er did see;
He died in dungeon cold and dim, by Alphonso's base decree,
And visage blind, and mangled limb, were all they gave to me.

The King that swerveth from his word hath stain'd 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 show

The King hath injured Carpio's line, and Bernard is his foe.'--

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 the traitor !'---But not one to move a finger dareth,---
Bernardo standeth by the throne, and calm his sword he bareth.

He drew the faulchion from the sheath, and held it up on high,
And all the hall was still as death---cries Bernard, Here am I,
And here's the sword that owns no lord, excepting heaven and me;
Fain would I know who dares his point.--King, Conde, or Grandee,'

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.

6

Ha! Bernard,' quoth Alphonso, what means this warlike guise?
Ye know full well I jested---ye know your worth I prize.'---
But Bernard turn'd upon his heel, and smiling pass'd away--
Long rued Alphonso and Castile the jesting of that day."

Concerning THE CID,-Count Fer-
nan Gonsalez of Castile,-Pedro the
Cruel-the Infanta Oracca-the Moor
Abindarraez-the Admiral Guarinos
-Calainos the Moor-" The Great
Captain" and, in short, concerning

the almost innumerable personages of Spanish history or romance, whose deeds are alluded to, and the ballads about them quoted by Don Quixotewe find notes in the same sort of style and fulness. The imitations or paro

dies of Amadis, Belianiss, &c. are always pointed out in a manner equally satisfactory-thus:

"Amadis retiring from his disdainful Oriana, to do penance on the poor rock. This is one of the most beautifully told of

all the adventures of Amadis. It was on

6

the suggestion of the old hermit that he assumed the name of Beltenebros: Y Amadis le pedio que no le llamasse de su nombre mas per otro qual el le quisiesse poner. El hombre bueno dixo: Yo vos quiero poner un nombre que sera conforme a vuestra persona y angustià en que soys puesto; y vuestra vida esta en grande amargura, y en tenieblas, quiero que ayas nombre Beltenebros. A Amadis pluyo de aquel nombre.'-Amad. de Gaula, c. 48.

"The penitence of Don Quixote is one of the principal points of his imitation of

Amadis and the imitation is carried as close as is consistent with the general purpose of Cervantes. Amadis had just finished the conquest of the Firm Island-an enchanted region, seven leagues long by five broad, which was called Insola, or Insula, because it was almost surrounded by the sea, and Firma Insula, by reason of an isthmus connecting it with the mainland. From this he departed for the court of Sobradisa, the sovereignty of which country was then in the hands of the beautiful Queen Briolanja. The peerless Oriana being informed of this new expedition, conceived certain feelings of jealousy, and sent him, by her page Burin, a letter full of haughty complaints, forbidding him ever to appear again in her presence. The letter was superscribed, I am the damsel wounded with the point of the sword through the heart, and thou art he that hast wounded me.' Amadis, on receiving

this communication, sunk forthwith into the profoundest melancholy, left all his adventures cut off in the middle,' and

withdrew to do penance in solitude.
ving no farther occasion for the services of
his Esquire Gandalin, he appointed him
governor of the Firm Island as in due
time Sancho himself becomes governor of
Barataria. Amadis chose to consult An-
dalod, a certain hermit, who inhabited a
midst of the sea, and, by his direction, he
dismal place, called the Poor Rock, in the
established there the seat of his miseries,
above mentioned, the name of Beltenebros.
assuming at the same time, for the reasons
Here Amadis devoted himself to a life of
the most exemplary piety, hearing the ma-
tins and vespers of the ancient Andalod,
confessing himself every noon, and spend-
ing all the rest of the four-and-twenty
hours in tears and lamentations. Now and
then, however, he composed poems on the
that Don Quixote also developes a vein
rigour of Oriana; and accordingly we find,
both of music and poetry in the sequel,
when he sings to the guitar a canzonet of
his own composition, for the purpose of
being overheard by Altesidora, the duch-
ess's maid. The deliverance of the Don
from his afflictions on the Sierra Morena
is also copied from that of Amadis, in
whose history the Damsell of Denmark
plays a part, not unlike that which is de-

vised for the fair Dorothea in this book of
Don Quixote. Pero Beltenebros se des-
pidio del hermitano hayiendole saber que
aquella donzella per la piedad de Dios alli
per su salud era aportada.'-Amad. c. 52.”

Every one remembers how often Don Quixote compares ROSINANTE to BAVIECA, the famous steed of the Campeador. On one of these occasions he quotes a line or two from one of the ancient ballads of the ROMANCERO DEL CID, which we find thus rendered in one of the notes to Vol. I. of this edition.

BAVIECA.

The king looked on him kindly, as on a vassal true;
Then to the king Ruy Diaz spake, after reverence due,
"O king, the thing is shameful, that any man beside
The liege lord of Castile himself should Bavieca ride :

For neither Spain nor Araby could another charger bring
So good as he, and, certes, the best befits my king.
But that you may behold him, and know him to the core,
I'll make him go as he was wont when his nostrils smelt the Moor."

With that, the Cid, clad as he was in mantle furr'd and wide,
On Bavieca vaulting, put the rowel in his side;

And up and down, and round about, so fierce was his career,
Stream'd like a pennon on the wind Ruy Diaz' minivere.

And all that saw them praised them-they lauded man and horse,
As matched well, and rivalless for gallantry and force;

Ne'er had they look'd on horseman might to this knight come near,
Nor on other charger worthy of such a cavalier.

Thus, to and fro a-rushing, the fierce and furious steed,
He snapt in twain his hither rein: God pity now the Cid,"
God pity Diaz,' cried the Lords, but when they look'd again,
They saw Ruy Diaz ruling him with the fragment of his rein;
They saw him proudly ruling, with gesture firm and calm,
Like a true Lord commanding, and obeyed as by a lamb.
And so he led him foaming and panting to the king,
But No,' said Don Alphonso, it were a shameful thing
That peerless Bavieca should ever be bestrid

By any mortal but Bivar-Mount, mount again, my Cid,'" &c.

Even after all that Mr Southey and Mr Frere have done, every thing about the Cid is delightful, so we shall give another of the many ballads concerning him as translated in this edition. The story of it is evidently a very apocryphal one; but that is no great matter. Don Quixote quotes it as gravely as it were gospel.

THE EXCOMMUNICATION OF THE CID.

"It was when from Spain across the main the Cid had come to Rome,
He chanced to see chairs four and three beneath Saint Peter's dome.
Now tell, I pray, what chairs be they ?' Seven kings do sit thereon,
As well doth suit, all at the foot of the holy father's throne.

The Pope he sitteth above them all, that they may kiss his toe,
Below the keys the Flower-de-lys doth make a gallant show;
For his great puissance, the King of France next to the Pope may sit,
The rest more low, all in a row, as doth their station fit.'-

Ha!' quoth the Cid, 'now God forbid! it is a shame, I wiss,
To see the Castle* planted beneath the Flower-de-lys.+

No harm, I hope, good father Pope, although I move thy chair.'
In pieces small he kick'd it all, ('twas of the ivory fair.)

The Pope's own seat he from his feet did kick it far away,
And the Spanish chair he planted upon its place that day;
Above them all he planted it, and laugh'd right bitterly,
Looks sour and bad I trow he had, as grim as grim might be.
Now when the Pope was aware of this, he was an angry man,
His lips that night, with solemn rite, pronounced the awful ban;
The curse of God, who died on rood, was on that sinner's head-
To hell and woe man's soul must go, if once that curse be said.
I wot, when the Cid was aware of this, a woeful man was he,
At dawn of day he came to pray at the blessed father's knee:
'Absolve me, blessed father, have pity upon me,

Absolve my soul, and penance I for my sin will dree.'_

'Who is this sinner,' quoth the Pope, that at my foot doth kneel ?'-
'I am Rodrigo Diaz, a poor Baron of Castille.'

Much marvell'd all were in the hall, when that name they heard him say,
'Rise up, rise up,'
," the Pope he said, I do thy guilt away.

'I do thy guilt away,' he said, and my curse I blot it out;
God save Rodrigo Diaz, my Christian champion stout.

I trow, if I had known thee, my grief it had been sore,
To curse Ruy Diaz de Bivar, God's scourge upon the Moor.""

The following is of a different class. "Castille had a Count Fernan Gonsalez, Valencia, a Cid, &c.-The story of Fernan Gonzales is detailed in the Chronica Antiqua de Espana, 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

The arms of Castille.

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 Castille first became a powerful and independent 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 overthrown

The arms of France.

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 Gonsależ 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 Amazonian 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 ha zards, to effect his liberation; and having done so by bribing his jailor, she accompanied his flight to Castille. 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 Compostello, 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 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 23d 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 one of the shortest of these that in which the first of his romantic escapes is described.

COUNT FERNAN GONSALEZI

"They have carried afar into Navarre the great Count of Castille,
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 Alcayde 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 pass'd within that time.
The Norman knight rides swiftly, for he hath made him bowne
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 Garci 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.

The Moors may well be joyful, but great should be our grief,
For Spain has lost her guardian when Castille 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 Cava's head, it may be shared by thee;
Arise, let love with love be paid, and set Gonsalez free.'

The lady answer'd 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 jailor 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 your 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 kiss'd 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. VOL. XI.

4 P

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.'

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 whisper'd, she whisper'd soft and slow,
And to the priest she beckon'd within the wood to go.

It was ill with Count Gonsalez, the fetters press'd his knees,
Yet as he could he follow'd 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 pluck'd 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 boar ye spear.
They wrapp'd 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 Castille! with me;
My merry men draw near me, I see my pennon shine,

Their swords shine bright, Infanta, and every blade is thine.""

We have quoted so many of these fine ballads, that we are sure it is unnecessary for us to comment on their merits. We shall, therefore, extract one more, and have done. It shall be "the Song of the Admiral Guarinos,"-the same which Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are described as hearing sung by a labourer going to his work, at day-break," in one of the most beautiful pas sages that can be pointed out in the whole of the Romance.

66

GUARINOS.

"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.

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 was o'er, for Guarinos lots they cast;
Seven times Marlotes won the throw, and the knight was his at last.

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.
'Now, for the sake of Alla, 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.

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.

"If more thou wishest, more I'll give speak boldly what thy thought is.'

Thus earnestly and kindly to Guarinos said Marotes;

But not a moment did he take to ponder or to pause,

Thus clear and quick the answer of the Christian Captain was: