There were men from wilds where the death-wind sweeps, There were spears from hills where the lion sleeps, There were bows from sands where the ostrich runs, For the shrill horn of Afric had call'd her sons The midnight bell o'er the dim seas heard, deed. The Cid insisted that, before taking possession of the vacant throne, Alphonso should take an oath of his innocence of his brother's murder; and when the other nobles hung back, Rodrigo alone exacted the oath and made him repeat it three times. After such a step, he could expect little court favour; and he retired from Castile, and occupied himself in expeditions against the Moors. He defeated five Moorish kings, and imposed upon them a tribute in the name of the king of Castile. Recalled to court, he received, in the presence of Alphonso, the Moorish deputies, who saluted him with the title of Seid, by which he was afterwards designated. Again banished by the unforgiving Alphonso, he attacked the Moors in Aragon, and there fixed himself in a strong fortress in a rock, which is still called "La Peña de el Cid," (The Rock of the Cid.) After a long siege, he took Valencia, where he established himself, and held it till his death, 1099. Too modest to take the title of king, he never forgot that he was born a subject to the king of Castile, and never ceased to give homage to Alphonso, although he had exiled him. The love of military renown never made him insensible to the dictates of justice, and he must ever be considered as a model of a true knight and of a faithful subject. On the news of his death the Moors besieged Valencia, but were repulsed by his widow, and the troops sent by Alphonso to her assistance; but, according to the legend which forms the subject of this ballad, the Moors besieged the town while he lay on his death-bed, and he directed that his corpse should be led out, in the manner described, when the garrison should make a sally. They rear'd the Cid on his barbed steed, And the shield from his neck hung bright. There was arming heard in Valencia's halls, With a measur❜d pace, as the pace of one, And they gave no battle shout. When the first went forth, it was midnight deep, In heaven was the moon, in the camp was sleep; When the last through the city's gates had gone, O'er tent and rampart the bright day shone, With a sun-burst from the sea. There were knights five hundred went arm'd before, And the Campeador 1 came stately then, 1 A title of the Cid. 2 Bavieca, the favourite charger of the Cid, is scarcely less celebrated than Bucephalus. He is mentioned in almost every one of the hundred ballads concerning the Cid, and was buried near his master under the trees in front of the convent of San Pedro de Cardeña. He was there, the Cid, with his own good sword, And Ximena following her noble lord; 1 Her eye was solemn, her step was slow, The halls in Valencia were still and lone, So the burial train mov'd out. With a measur❜d pace, as the pace of one, But the hills peal'd with a cry ere long, He that was wrapt with no funeral shroud, 1 The Cid's wife. The Chimène of Corneille's celebrated tragedy of "Le Cid." 2 The market-place. 3 One of the Cid's bravest warriors, and governor of Valencia after his death. 4 A Moorish princess, who accompanied King Bucar with a band of female archers. 1 Then a terror fell on the king Bucar 1, And the Libyan2 kings who had join'd his war: And their hearts grew heavy and died away, And their hands could not wield an assagay 3, For the dreadful things they saw ! For it seem'd where Minaya 4 his onset made, And the crested form of a warrior tall, There was fear in the path of his dim white horse, There was death in the giant-warrior's course! Where his banner stream'd with its ghastly light, Where his sword blaz'd out, there was hurrying flight, For it seem'd not the sword of man! The field and the river grew darkly red, There was work for the men of the Cid that day! The Moorish king that had invaded Spain. * African. 4 Alvaro Fanez Minaya. 5 A lofty mountain in Spain. 3 A Moorish weapon. The kings and the leaders of Afric fled! MRS. HEMANS. INSTABILITY OF FRIENDSHIP. ALAS! - how light a cause may move And sorrow but more closely tied; That stood the storm, when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea, MOORE. |