FERNANDO, King of Arragon, before Grenada lies, | |
| With dukes and barons many a one, and champions of emprise; | |
| With all the captains of Castille that serve his lady’s crown, | |
| He drives Boabdil from his gates, and plucks the crescent down. | |
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| The cross is reared upon the towers, for our Redeemer’s sake; | 5 |
| The King assembles all his powers, his triumph to partake, | |
| Yet at the royal banquet there ’s trouble in his eye,— | |
| “Now speak thy wish, it shall be done, great King,” the lordlings cry. | |
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| Then spake Fernando, “Hear, grandees! which of ye all will go, | |
| And give my banner in the breeze of Alpuxar to blow? | 10 |
| Those heights along, the Moors are strong; now who, by dawn of day, | |
| Will plant the cross their cliffs among, and drive the dogs away?” | |
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| Then champion on champion high, and count on count doth look; | |
| And faltering is the tongue of lord, and pale the cheek of duke; | |
| Till starts up brave Alonzo, the knight of Aguilar, | 15 |
| The lowmost at the royal board, but foremost still in war. | |
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| And thus he speaks: “I pray, my lord, that none but I may go; | |
| For I made promise to the Queen, your consort, long ago, | |
| That ere the war should have an end, I, for her royal charms, | |
| And for my duty to her grace, would show some feat of arms.” | 20 |
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| Much joyed the King these words to hear,—he bids Alonzo speed,— | |
| And long before their revel ’s o’er the knight is on his steed; | |
| Alonzo ’s on his milk-white steed, with horsemen in his train,— | |
| A thousand horse, a chosen band, ere dawn the hills to gain. | |
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| They ride along the darkling ways, they gallop all the night; | 25 |
| They reach Nevada ere the cock hath harbingered the light; | |
| But ere they ’ve climbed that steep ravine the east is glowing red, | |
| And the Moors their lances bright have seen, and Christian banners spread. | |
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| Beyond the sands, between the rocks, where the old cork-trees grow, | |
| The path is rough, and mounted men must singly march and slow; | 30 |
| There, o’er the path, the heathen range their ambuscado’s line, | |
| High up they wait for Aguilar, as the day begins to shine. | |
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| There naught avails the eagle-eye, the guardian of Castille, | |
| The eye of wisdom, nor the heart that fear might never feel, | |
| The arm of strength that wielded well the strong mace in the fray, | 35 |
| Nor the broad plate, from whence the edge of falchion glanced away. | |
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| Not knightly valor there avails, nor skill of horse and spear, | |
| For rock on rock comes rumbling down from cliff and cavern drear; | |
| Down, down like driving hail they come, and horse and horsemen die, | |
| Like cattle whose despair is dumb when the fierce lightnings fly. | 40 |
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| Alonzo, with a handful more, escapes into the field, | |
| There like a lion stands at bay, in vain besought to yield; | |
| A thousand foes around are seen, but none draws near to fight; | |
| Afar with bolt and javelin they pierce the steadfast knight. | |
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| A hundred and a hundred darts are hissing round his head; | 45 |
| Had Aguilar a thousand hearts, their blood had all been shed; | |
| Faint and more faint he staggers upon the slippery sod, | |
| At last his back is to the earth, he gives his soul to God. | |
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| With that the Moors plucked up their hearts to gaze upon his face, | |
| And caitiffs mangled where he lay the scourge of Afric’s race: | 50 |
| To woody Oxijera then the gallant corpse they drew, | |
| And there upon the village-green they laid him out to view. | |
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| Upon the village-green he lay as the moon was shining clear, | |
| And all the village damsels to look on him drew near; | |
| They stood around him all a-gaze, beside the big oak-tree, | 55 |
| And much his beauty they did praise, though mangled sore was he. | |
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| Now, so it fell, a Christian dame that knew Alonzo well | |
| Not far from Oxijera did as a captive dwell, | |
| And, hearing all the marvels, across the woods came she, | |
| To look upon this Christian corpse, and wash it decently. | 60 |
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| She looked upon him, and she knew the face of Aguilar, | |
| Although his beauty was disgraced with many a ghastly scar; | |
| She knew him, and she cursed the dogs that pierced him from afar, | |
| And mangled him when he was slain,—the Moors of Alpuxar. | |
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| The Moorish maidens, while she spake, around her silence kept, | 65 |
| But her master dragged the dame away,—then loud and long they wept; | |
| They washed the blood, with many a tear, from dint of dart and arrow, | |
| And buried him near the waters clear of the brook of Alpuxarra. | |
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