[25] See a subsequent ballad in the same collection:—
In her hot cheek the blood mounts high, as she stands gazing down
Now on proud Henry’s royal state, his robe and golden crown,
And now upon the trampled cloak, that hides not from her view
The slaughtered Pedro’s marble brow, and lips of livid hue.
| • | • | • | • | • | • | • | • | • | • |
Away she flings her garments, her broidered veil and vest,
As if they should behold her love within her lovely breast—
As if to call upon her foes the constant heart to see
Where Pedro’s form is still enshrined, and evermore shall be.
But none on fair Maria looks, by none her breast is seen,
Save angry heaven, remembering well the murder of the Queen;
The wounds of jealous harlot rage, which virgin blood must staunch,
And all the scorn that mingled in the bitter cup of Blanch.
The utter coldness of neglect that haughty spirit stings,
As if ten thousand fiends were there, with all their flapping wings.
She wraps the veil about her head, as if ‘twere all a dream,
The love—the murder—and the wrath—and that rebellious scream.
For still there’s shouting on the plain, and spurring far and nigh;
“God save the King—Amen! Amen! King Henry!” is the cry,
While Pedro all alone is left upon his bloody bier—
Not one remains to cry to God, “Our Lord lies murdered here.”
[26] Herod, i. 4. It may be inferred from hence that the high estimation of female chastity, and implacable resentment consequent upon injuries in that respect, which now characterise Eastern manners, did not prevail in the age of Herodotus. That these feelings did prevail at a very remote period, appears from the story of Darius and Alexander.
[27] Leland’s Hist. Ireland.
[28] Thucyd. i. 9.
[29] Pausanias evidently founded his account of Aristomenes upon the traditions and legendary ballads of the Messenians; which, probably, were about as historical as Chevy Chase, or the Spanish ballads of the Cid, and other celebrated warriors. The reader will be on his guard, therefore, against taking all that is here told for veracious history: but we have not attempted to discriminate accurately between truth and fiction, which would entirely destroy the spirit and romance of the narrative, very probably without coming nearer to the reality.
[30] Pausanias merely says that the Greeks in general believed Pyrrhus to be his father. We have no doubt, from the context, that the hero is the person meant, though the passage has been otherwise interpreted. The practice of deifying eminent men prevailed in Greece at an early period, though apparently not in the age of Hesiod and Homer. Homer is fond indeed of dwelling on the superiority of the past; a superiority referred to the celestial descent of the heroes who then flourished; but he gives us no reason to think that divine honours were paid them. In later times, a patron hero was as necessary to a Grecian, as a patron saint formerly to a European city: and there are few names of eminence in the heroic age, in honour of which temples have not been built, and sacred rites instituted. The twelve Athenian tribes had each its protecting hero: Æacus and his descendants were believed to preside over Ægina and Salamis. It is needless to multiply examples.
[31] Probably this story is founded on the theft of the Palladium by night from Troy, by Ulysses and Diomed. A similar spirit of chivalrous daring, mingled with superstition, suggested a similar enterprise to Fernando Perez del Pulgar, surnamed ‘of the Exploits,’ when serving at the siege of Granada under Ferdinand of Castile. “Who will stand by me,” said he, “in an enterprise of desperate peril?” The Christian cavaliers well knew the hair–brained valour of del Pulgar, yet not one hesitated to step forward. He chose fifteen companions, all men of powerful arm and dauntless heart. In the dead of the night he led them forth from the camp, and approached the city cautiously, until he arrived at a postern gate, which opened upon the Darro, and was guarded by foot soldiers. The guards, little thinking of such an unwonted and partial attack, were for the most part fast asleep. The gate was forced, and a confused and chance medley skirmish ensued. Fernando stopped not to take part in the affray. Putting spurs to his horse, he galloped furiously through the streets, striking fire out of the stones at every bound. Arrived at the principal mosque, he sprang from his horse, and kneeling at the portal, took possession of the edifice as a Christian chapel, dedicating it to the blessed Virgin. In testimony of the ceremony, he took a tablet, which he had brought with him, on which was inscribed, in large letters, Ave Maria, and nailed it to the door of the mosque with his dagger. This done, he remounted his steed, and galloped back to the gate. The alarm had been given, the city was in an uproar; soldiers were gathering from every direction. They were astonished at seeing a Christian warrior speeding from the interior of the city. Fernando, overturning some and cutting down others, rejoined his companions, who still maintained possession of the gate by dint of hard fighting, and they all made good their retreat to the camp. The Moors were at a loss to conjecture the meaning of this wild and apparently fruitless assault, but great was their exasperation when, on the following day, they discovered the trophy of hardihood and prowess, the Ave Maria, thus elevated in the very centre of the city. The mosque, thus boldly sanctified by Fernando Perez del Pulgar, was eventually, after the capture of Granada, converted into a cathedral.—Washington Irving, Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada, chap. 91.