GREEN VINE LEAVES; OR, THE KING’S SLIPPER
Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,
There found I grapes both fine and sweet;
So ripe are they—so highly colour’d—
They are saying ‘come and eat.’
—‘I wish to know who ’tis that guards them:
Hast, Mordomo! hast and know’
Says the King to his Mordomo,
But why did the king say so?
Because the king saw in that mountain,
How saw he her I do not know—
That incomparable Dona...
My reading does not tell me how.
Who to her sorrow is a Countess,
Countess she of Valderey:
Rather would she, by my halidom,
Rather—a poor peasant be.
Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,
Grapes which the king will go to greet:
So ripe are they, so highly colour’d,
They are saying ‘come and eat.’
Comes the Mordomo from the mountain:
—‘Best of news to you I bring;
Though the vineyard is well guarded,
Yet have I enter’d, Senhor King!
‘The owner is in other countries,
When come he back, I cannot say;
The gate is old—the yielding portress
To key of gold gave ready way.
‘To a wonder that key serv’d me;
All was soon adjusted so,
That this eve at hour of midnight
With you I’ll to the vintage go.’
—‘Your’e worth a kingdom’—my Mordomo!
Grand reward I’ll make to thee.
This eve then, at the hour of midnight
Rich grapes shall be eat by me.’
Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,
More grapes than I before did meet:
So beautiful and so ripe are they,
They are saying ‘come and eat.’
In the dead of the midnight hour
Went the Mordomo—went the king—
Of doblas to the portress giv’n,
’Tis not for me the account to sing.
—‘Mordomo! stay you at the portal,
The portal where I enter in,
Let not guard—dogs with me grapple,
Whil’st the grapes I’m gathering.’
The portress now to meet his wish,
Exchange for what he gave doth bring;
At the chamber of the Countess
Behold there entereth the king.
She bore a lamp both rich and massy,
It was of silver, I could see.
Nought but of silver or of gold
Is in the house of Valderey.
The fresh green leaves are in the vineyard,
The grapes in it are ripe and sweet:
So beautiful—so warmly colour’d—
Ah me, of them when shall I eat?
All in the chamber of the Countess
Gold was with silver suited well,
It was the Heav’n of that Angel,
No more hath my poor tongue to tell.
Rich silks were there of Millan,
The towels were of Courtenay;
The King he trembled—if from terror
Or from good faith, I cannot say.
Green silk curtains hung before him,
Still he ne’er essay’d to raise;
The vision bright I may not sing,
That daunted thus his baffled gaze.
It was a thing so passing lovely...
What more to say I do not ween.
Dainties other such as this,
You may not see, nor have I seen.
Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,
Saw I there grapes ripe and sweet:
So beautiful and so ripe are they—
They are saying ‘come and eat.’
Slept she there so undisturb’d
As I in heav’n above shall sleep—
Jesus! when I find thee there,
If innocent thy law I keep.
On his knees then all the night
Good did the King ill thought withstand;
Gazing, wond’ring thus to see her,
Without moving foot or hand.
And thus he said —‘Oh God, my sire!
Pardon what I ask’d before:
This angel here so pure and bright
It is not I will injure her.’
The vineyard hath fresh green leaves in it,
Grapes found I in it ripe and sweet;
But I fear to tamper with them...
Ah! of them I will not eat.
Now came on the shining morrow,
Then it was, as goes the tale,
The Mordomo a whistle heard:
—‘Jesus Lord, now me avail!’
This was the appointed signal
The mode the Count was us’d to take—
The king did not the curtains draw
Saying: ‘I will not vintage make.’
Beautiful green leaves hath the vineyard,
In it I found grapes lovely sweet;
But my conscience inward grieves me,
Grapes like these I will not eat.
Mordomo ran with rapid vigour
In order that the king may flee.
—‘Alas a slipper I have lost.’
—‘Take one of mine I give to thee.’
They fled, but in another instant
Since the whistle they did hear,
Descends the Count from off the mountain.
—‘If he shall catch us, woe and fear!’
One fear barass’d the Mordomo,
Other fear assail’d the King:
Which of them had reason greater,
Soon unto you will I sing.
Green leaves saw I in the vineyard,
Grapes quite ripe and richly sweet;
But, by his tender conscience guarded,
Quoth the King:—‘I will not eat.’
Seeketh now the Count his tower,
The valiant Count of Valderey;
He lit upon the broider’d slipper...
How it chanc’d I cannot say.
To the chamber of the Countess
Goes he... Will he strike the blow?
Serenely sleeping doth he see her:
—‘Jesus! I know not what to do.’
In disorder is the household...
—‘God have me in his holy keep!
Either witch must be this woman,
Or this same slipper mock’d my sleep.’
‘The slipper which I have before me,
The slipper it bespeaks no good:
Who could think that she could slumber
In so pure and gentle mood.’
Wild the doubts that rise within him:
—‘Help me Heaven! with guiding light,
Baffling madness louring round
Forbids me see my path aright.
Oh! my vineyard so well guarded!
The precious grapes which there I left...
Where is the fruit on which I counted?
Tell me of which I am bereft?’
Straight the Count himself imprison’d
In highest tower of Valderey:
—‘Ne’er shall bread assuage my hunger,
Ne’er shall wine my thirst allay.
Beard and hair grown rough and ragged,
Care from me shall ne’er receive;
Till the truth be plain before me,
Ne’er will I this refuge leave.
Oh! ye green leaves of the vineyard
Grapes that I no more may taste!
Quickly may ye pine and wither,
Quickly pine like me and waste.’
Thrice the sun hath sunk and ris’n,
Still groaning thus he lonely sate,
While faithful Countess grieving utter’d:
‘How shall I soothe his mournful state?’
Whither may she flee for succour?
Who shall aid and solace bring?
Innocence may challenge pity...
Where shall she went? Unto the King!
—‘That I some remedy may find thee,
Faithful Countess, quickly go:
The secret of his sad affliction.
Be’t mine or here or there to know.
On leal word of Cavalleiro
Troth and faith I plight to thee,
Pure you shall be found and spotless,
Or I myself shall recreant be.’
Oh! the green leaves of the Vine tree!
Grapes I sought with eager haste!
To the soul their beauty touch’ me,
Bloom so pure I dar’d not taste.
Quickly thence the Countess hurried;
The king, he did not tarry more.
What they say I wish to hear,
So will I listen at the door.
Hist!—A voice of heavenly sweetness
Steals upon his ravished ears—
While this sad plaint the mourner sang
Mocking music of the spheres.
—‘Once I was a Vine well guarded,
Taught by tending Love to grow:
Now I lack that fost’ring nurture...
Why—I scarce dare ask to know.’
Then shone out the Royal goodness...
Tears of pity dimm’d his eye:
—‘Quick of the other side inform me,
That the truth I may descry.’
—‘My fresh vineyard so well guarded,
When I enter’d it again,
Trace of plundering thief I noted...
What he stole I ask in vain.’
Ceased the Count o’erwhelm’d with sorrow,
But then laughing said the King:
(Whether at self or at the mourner
Aim’d that laugh, I cannot sing.)
—’Twas I who did the vineyard enter,
Of plundering thief I left the trace;
Grapes I saw—but Heav’n so save me—
Not a grape did I displace.’
A fracture was there in the portal
The slipper from his foot he tore:
—‘Need’st thou proof? behold it here.’
Its fellow from within he bore.
Of the joy that followed after
Little need I more impart,
Glad the Count the truth admitted,
And the King play’d the kingly part.
Fresh green leaves hath the vineyard,
Richest grapes were those I saw;
It was fear that kept them safely,
Fear of God and of his law.
Em continuação do appendice, aqui juncto egualmente, para illustração do romance IX d’este livro que leva por titulo REGINALDO[142], as duas licções castelhanas que d’elle apparecem agora na última recente edição do ROMANCERO de Duran.
Na introducção áquelle romance disse eu que elle não apparecia nas collecções castelhanas, porque em nenhuma das anteriores a ésta de 1849-51 o tinha podido incontrar.
Essa parte do texto, assim como a nota correspondente[143] precisam pois d’esta correcção.