FROM THE SPANISH BALLADS TRANSLATED BY
JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART.
CONTENTS.
PART I.
THE MOOR CALAYNOS.
In the following version I have taken liberty to omit a good many of the introductory stanzas of the famous Coplas de Calainos. The reader will remember that this ballad is alluded to in Don Quixote, where the Knight's nocturnal visit to Toboso is described.
It is generally believed to be among the most ancient, and certainly was among the most popular, of all the ballads in the Cancionero.
| I. |
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"I had six Moorish nurses, but the seventh was not a Moor, The Moors they gave me milk enow, but the Christian gave me lore; And she told me ne'er to listen, though sweet the words might be, Till he that spake had proved his troth, and pledged a gallant fee."— |
| II. |
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"Fair damsel," quoth Calaynos, "if thou wilt go with me, Say what may win thy favour, and thine that gift shall be. Fair stands the castle on the rock, the city in the vale, And bonny is the red red gold, and rich the silver pale."— |
| III. |
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"Fair sir," quoth she, "virginity I never will lay down For gold, nor yet for silver, for castle, nor for town; But I will be your leman for the heads of certain peers— And I ask but three—Rinaldo's—Roland's—and Olivier's."— |
| IV. |
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He kissed her hand where she did stand, he kissed her lips also, And "Bring forth," he cries, "my pennon, for to Paris I must go."— I wot ye saw them rearing his banner broad right soon, Whereon revealed his bloody field its pale and crescent moon. |
| V. |
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That broad bannere the Moore did rear, ere many days were gone, In foul disdain of Charlemagne, by the church of good Saint John; In the midst of merry Paris, on the bonny banks of Seine, Shall never scornful Paynim that pennon rear again. |
| VI. |
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His banner he hath planted high, and loud his trumpet blown, That all the twelve might hear it well around King Charles's throne; The note he blew right well they knew; both Paladin and Peer Had the trumpet heard of that stern lord in many a fierce career. |
| VII. |
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It chanced the King, that fair morning, to the chace had made him bowne, With many a knight of warlike might, and prince of high renown; Sir Reynold of Montalban, and Claros' Lord, Gaston, Behind him rode, and Bertram good, that reverend old Baron. |
| VIII. |
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Black D'Ardennes' eye of mastery in that proud troop was seen, And there was Urgel's giant force, and Guarinos' princely mien; Gallant and gay upon that day was Baldwin's youthful cheer, But first did ride, by Charles's side, Roland and Olivier. |
| IX. |
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Now in a ring around the King, not far in the greenwood, Awaiting all the huntsman's call, it chanced the nobles stood; "Now list, mine earls, now list!" quoth Charles, "yon breeze will come again, Some trumpet-note methinks doth float from the bonny banks of Seine."— |
| X. |
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He scarce had heard the trumpet, the word he scarce had said, When among the trees he near him sees a dark and turbaned head; "Now stand, now stand at my command, bold Moor," quoth Charlemagne, "That turban green, how dare it be seen among the woods of Seine."— |
| XI. |
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"My turban green must needs be seen among the woods of Seine," The Moor replied, "since here I ride in quest of Charlemagne— For I serve the Moor Calaynos, and I his defiance bring To every lord that sits at the board of Charlemagne your King. |
| XII. |
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"Now lordlings fair, if anywhere in the wood ye've seen him riding, O tell me plain the path he has ta'en—there is no cause for chiding; For my lord hath blown his trumpet by every gate of Paris— Long hours in vain, by the bank of Seine, upon his steed he tarries."— |
| XIII. |
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When the Emperor had heard the Moor, full red was his old cheek, "Go back, base cur, upon the spur, for I am he you seek— Go back, and tell your master to commend him to Mahoun, For his soul shall dwell with him in hell, or ere yon sun go down. |
| XIV. |
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"Mine arm is weak, my hairs are grey," (thus spake King Charlemagne,) "Would for one hour I had the power of my young days again, As when I plucked the Saxon from out his mountain den— O soon should cease the vaunting of this proud Saracen! |
| XV. |
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"Though now mine arm be weakened, though now my hairs be grey, The hard-won praise of other days cannot be swept away— If shame there be, my liegemen, that shame on you must lie— Go forth, go forth, good Roland; to-night this Moor must die."— |
| XVI. |
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Then out and spake rough Roland—"Ofttimes I've thinned the ranks Of the hot Moor, and when all was o'er have won me little thanks; Some carpet knight will take delight to do this doughty feat, Whom damsels gay shall well repay with their smiles and whispers sweet!"— |
| XVII. |
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Then out and spake Sir Baldwin—the youngest peer was he, The youngest and the comeliest—"Let none go forth but me; Sir Roland is mine uncle, and he may in safety jeer, But I will show the youngest may be Sir Roland's peer."— |
| XVIII. |
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"Nay, go not thou," quoth Charlemagne, "thou art my gallant youth, And braver none I look upon; but thy cheek it is too smooth; And the curls upon thy forehead they are too glossy bright;— Some elder peer must couch his spear against this crafty knight."— |
| XIX. |
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But away, away goes Baldwin, no words can stop him now, Behind him lies the greenwood, he hath gained the mountain's brow, He reineth first his charger, within the churchyard green, Where, striding slow the elms below, the haughty Moor is seen. |
| XX. |
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Then out and spake Calaynos—"Fair youth, I greet thee well; Thou art a comely stripling, and if thou with me wilt dwell, All for the grace of thy sweet face, thou shalt not lack thy fee, Within my lady's chamber a pretty page thou'lt be."— |
| XXI. |
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An angry man was Baldwin, when thus he heard him speak, "Proud knight," quoth he, "I come with thee a bloody spear to break."— O, sternly smiled Calaynos, when thus he heard him say,— O loudly as he mounted his mailèd barb did neigh. |
| XXII. |
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One shout, one thrust, and in the dust young Baldwin lies full low— No youthful knight could bear the might of that fierce warrior's blow; Calaynos draws his falchion, and waves it to and fro, "Thy name now say, and for mercy pray, or to hell thy soul must go."— |
| XXIII. |
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The helpless youth revealed the truth. Then said the conqueror— "I spare thee for thy tender years, and for thy great valour; But thou must rest thee captive here, and serve me on thy knee, For fain I'd tempt some doughtier peer to come and rescue thee." |
| XXIV. |
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Sir Roland heard that haughty word, (he stood behind the wall,) His heart, I trow, was heavy enow, when he saw his kinsman fall; But now his heart was burning, and never a word he said, But clasped his buckler on his arm, his helmet on his head. |
| XXV. |
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Another sight saw the Moorish knight, when Roland blew his horn, To call him to the combat in anger and in scorn; All cased in steel from head to heel, in the stirrup high he stood, The long spear quivered in his hand, as if athirst for blood. |
| XXVI. |
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Then out and spake Calaynos—"Thy name I fain would hear; A coronet on thy helm is set; I guess thou art a Peer."— Sir Roland lifted up his horn, and blew another blast, "No words, base Moor," quoth Roland, "this hour shall be thy last."— |
| XXVII. |
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I wot they met full swiftly, I wot the shock was rude; Down fell the misbeliever, and o'er him Roland stood; Close to his throat the steel he brought, and plucked his beard full sore— "What devil brought thee hither?—speak out or die, false Moor!"— |
| XXVIII. |
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"O! I serve a noble damsel, a haughty maid of Spain, And in evil day I took my way, that I her grace might gain; For every gift I offered, my lady did disdain, And craved the ears of certain Peers that ride with Charlemagne."— |
| XXIX. |
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Then loudly laughed rough Roland—"Full few will be her tears, It was not love her soul did move, when she bade thee beard the peers."— With that he smote upon his throat, and spurned his crest in twain, "No more," he cries, "this moon will rise above the woods of Seine." |