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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. | |
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| And while the Christian people stood in this uncertainty, | 5 |
| 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. | |
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| They rode upon two horses more white than crystal sheen, | |
| And arms they bore such as before no mortal man had seen; | 10 |
| The one, he held a crosier,—a pontiff’s mitre wore; | |
| The other held a crucifix,—such man ne’er saw before. | |
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| 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, | 15 |
| And in their hands, with dire portent, their naked sabres shook | |
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| 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 clenchèd fist to smite his breast begins, | |
| And promises to God on high he will forsake his sins. | 20 |
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| And when 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. | |
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| Together with these two good knights, the champions of the sky, | 25 |
| 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. | |
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| Down went the misbelievers,—fast sped the bloody fight,— | |
| Some ghastly and dismembered lay, and some half dead with fright: | 30 |
| Full sorely they repented that to the field they came, | |
| For they saw that from the battle they should retreat with shame. | |
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| Another thing befell them,—they dreamed not of such woes,— | |
| The very arrows that the Moors shot from their twanging bows | |
| Turned back against them in their flight and wounded them full sore, | 35 |
| And every blow they dealt the foe was paid in drops of gore. * * * * * | |
| 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. | 40 |
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