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They hurry to the spot, where Bermuez advances
Three hundred banners, hung on three hundred waving lances.
The Moors were scattered all ---compelled to die or yield;
They wheel-

as many more lie humbled on the field.
You might have seen their weapons dazzling there,
Their crossing spears all mingled in the air.
Their shields in rapid motion, their shining coats of mail
To the brandished sabres yielding, as things of no avail;
And many a pennon white in crimson gore dyed deep,
And many a noble horse without his rider

The field—the Moors their prayers to Mahomet address’d,
And the Christians to Saint James."*

There is a remarkably fine passage where the Cid summons his treacherous relations to answer for their perfidy before the Cortes; and the description of the encounter between the Infantes of Carrion and the Defenders of the Hero has been often referred to as full of energy and truth. “ Each thinks now of himself, and of himself alone; They seize their shields, those shields their valiant bosoms cover: They bend their lances down, with their pennons Aying over ; They look upon their steeds, and their harness in their pride, And their spurs have entered deep their fiery horses' side, And the earth beneath them trembles, trembles at their feet : Each, each, must. stand alone for his honor to provide ; For three 'gainst three, in close encounter now they meet.

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Antonio puts his hand upon his sword so bright,
It dazzled like the sun, it filled the field with light.”+

*“ A grandes voces lama, el que en buen ora nasco,

Feridlos caballeros por amor de caridad,
Yo so Ruy Diaz, el Cid Campeador de Bibar.
Todos fieren en el han do esta Pero Bermuez
Trescientas lanzas son todas tienen pendones :
Sennos Moros matáron todos de sennos colpes :
Ala tornada que facen otros tantos son:
Veriedes tantas lanzas premer e alzar.
Tanta adarga a foradar e pasar,
Tanta loriga falsa desmanchar
Tantos pendones blancos salir bermeios en sangre,
Tantos buenos cavallos sin los duenos andar
Los Moros laman Mafomat, los Cristianos Sanctiague.”
+ “ Cada uno de ellos mientes tiene al so

Abrazan los escudos delant los corazones

But not for their poetic merits alone, or principally, are these early fragments interesting. They are most valuable historical documents—they are admirable illustrations of manners and character—they introduce us to the daily concerns of those who lived so many centuries ago; and though rude and unpolished, the portraitures of the individuals introduced are singularly bold and vivid. The blind obedience to kingly authority -the influence of the priests—the disorganized state of society, are strikingly developed. There is little of the machinery of the epic; and powerful description, rather than fanciful decoration, distinguishes them. The Cid is usually called “ The born in happy hour.” Over all there is spread a spirit of rude devotion—a constant appeal to the Heavenly Creator, to Holy Mary, Jesus, and the Saints.

The versification is irregular and imperfect. A syllable or two, too much or too little, ne er perplexes the author. Asonantes and consonantes are frequently blended, and seem not to have been distinguished by the ear of the writer. The Poenia del Cid has many examples of that species of rhyme which became universal in the following century, viz. couplets of four lines with the same rhyme, as for example: “ Notó los Don Martino sin


los tomaba
Los otros trecientos en oro gelos paraba
Cinco escuderos tiene Don Martino à todos los cargaba
Quando esto ovo fecho odredes lo


fablaba." There is often too a verbal repetition of the same stanzas, and especially where the lines are such as the writer regarded with particular self-complacency.

As a specimen of the then state of the language of Spain, these early poems are most valuable. So undetermined does it appear, that no less than four words are employed as the third person singular of the perfect tense of the verb nacer; nado, nasco, nasció, nació. A number of Arabic words,-Acaiaz (señor), seid, (cid) alfaya (gift), almofalla (army), almofar (coif), axobda (centinel), &c. now obsolete, are used. The construc

Abaxan las lanzas abueltas con los pendones
Enclinaban las caras sobre los árzones
Batien los cavallos en los espolones
Tembrar querie la tierra dod eran movedores
Cada uno dellos mientes tiene al so
Todos tres por tres ya juntados son.

Martin Antolinez mano metio al espada
Relumbra todel campo: tanto es limpia è clara."

tion is more of a Latin character, and a variety of Latin words are employed, which are no longer understood in Spain : Allaudar (allaudare), monedado (monedatus, Du Cange), cingir (cingere), cuer (cor), dona (pl. donum), eguar (equare), finiestra (fenestra), glera (sea-shore), exir (exire), jogado (jocatus), plorra (plorare), regno (regnum), remaner (remanere), si (sic), toller (tollere), ullo (ullus), &c.

In the following century, Don Gonzalo de Berceo and Don Juan Lorenzo contributed not a little to give character and precision to Castillian poetry. The following verses of the former will serve admirably well for a comparison with those of the latter which we had before occasion to quote. (iii. 283),

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* “ To me it once befel, when in Romeria (a) gone,

To tread a fertile plain, with greenest turf o'ergrown,

and many a flower was o'er its bosom thrown;
It was, indeed, a spot to bless a weary one.
The flowers gave forth the sweets which sweetest flowrets hold,
Refreshing soul and sense with the fragrance they unfold;
And the streams rolled wandering on, rejoicing as they rolld,
In the chilly winter warm, in the summer season cold.
And many a noble tree put forth its riches there,
The granate and the fig, the apple and the pear,
And other various fruits, salubrious and

All in their richest bloom-all fresh, and sweet, and fair.

* “ Yo Maestro Gonzalo de Berceo nomnado

lendo en Romeria caeci en un prado
Verde e bien sencido de flores bien poblado
Logar cobdiciaduero para ome cansado.

Daban olor sobeio las flores bien olientes
Refrescaban en ome las caras y las mientes
Manaban cada canto fuentes claras corrientes
En verano bien frias en yvierno calientes.

Avie hy grand abondo de buenas arboledas
Milgranose figueras, pero e mazanedas
E muchas otras fructas de deversas monedas
Mas non avie ningunas podridas nin aredas.

(a) Romeria ; a joyous pilgrimage made to some shrine, or in honor of some saint.

The verdure of the fields, the flowers so gay and sweet,
The shade beneath the trees so cool and soft, and meet,
Refreshed my wearied frame, and eased my tottering feet;
Life well might be sustained by breath so exquisite.


I never, never saw so privileged a spot,
Or felt so soft a breeze, or such a calm cool grot;
I threw my garments down, and wrapt in gentle thought,
Lay 'neath a lovely tree, and blessed my happy lot.
A thousand thoughts of joy and peace came o'er me then,
Birds sung melodiously, in one consenting strain,
Such harmony was ne'er produced by mortal men,
And music powers shall ne'er create such sounds again.

And now 'twas gently soft, and now 'twas boldly loud,
And now one voice was heard, and now a choir-like crowd;
The charm of song was there, and all submissive bow'd,
And discord fled, for all with music were endow'd.

The organ or the harp, the psaltery or the lyre,
The tongue's clear melody, and the accordant quire;
Art's instruments—these never could inspire
Such harmony of soul, such satisfied desire.

La verdura del prado, la olor de las flores,
Las sombras de los arbores, de temprados sabores
Refrescaronme todo, e perdi los sudores;
Podrie vevir el ome con aquillos olores.
Nunqua trobé en sieglo logar tan deleytoso
Nin sombra tan temprada, nin olor tan sabroso
Descargue mi ropiella por iacer mas vicioso
Poseme a la sombra de un arbor fermoso.
Yaciendo a la sombra perdi todos cuidados
Odi sones de aves dulces è modulados
Nunqua udieron omes organos mas temprados
Nin que pudiessen sones mas acordados.
Unas tenien la quinta è las otras doblában,
Otras tenien el punto, errar no las dexaban,

posar, al mover todas se esperaban,
Aves torpes nin roncas hi non se acostaban.

Non serie organista, nin serie violero,
Nin giga, nin salterio, nin manoderotero,

The field was beautiful, 'twas always fresh and green,
Nor cold nor heat could change its ever verdant sheen;
'Twas an eternal spring, as it had ever been,
And never storm disturb’d its face of joy serene.
I threw me down in haste on this enchanted ground,
The cares and sorrows fled which long had whelm'd me round;
All thoughts of grief and woe in ecstacy were drown'd,
O happy, happy he, who such a rest has found.
There men and birds might share the flowerets at their will,
The more they pluck'd, the more put forth their beauties still,
As if they loved that field with infant buds to fill,
Where one was stolen, two grew='twas like that heavenly hill
Which God called paradise."

The poet then goes on to explain his allegory. We are pilgrims to a better country, but have one beautiful resting place to relieve our weariness. It is that which he has painted-it is the Virgin Mary—the unchanging green is her virginitythe fountains are the evangelists--the shade of the trees, songs of devotion—the groves are her miracles—the birds are saints and martyrs—the flowers are the names of the virgin.

“Sennores e amigos, en váno contendemos,
Entramos en grand pozo, fondo nol trovaremos.”

Nin estrument, nin lengua, nin tan claro vocero,
Cuyo canto valiesse un esto, un diero.
El prado que vos digo avie otra bondat
Por calor, nin por frio, non perdie su beldat
Siempre estaba verde en su entegredat
Non perdie la verdura por nulla tempestat.


que fui en tierra acostado
De todo el lacerio fui luego folgado:
Oblidé toda cuita, el lacerio pasado :
Qui alli se morasse serie bien venturado.

Los omes e las aves quantas acacien,
Levaban de las flores, quantas levar querien,
Mas mengua en el prado ninguna non sacien,
Por una que levaban, tres è quatro nacien.

Milagros de Nuestra Señora.

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