Nap. How is this, friend Munrá!
Why are you here again?
Why have you left your capital?
What sent you out of Spain?
Speak on, and don't delay;
We have no time to spare;
Tell me, in terms exact,
What has happened there.
Mur. Easy, sir, if you please;
Sire, do not press me so;
Only let me get breath,
I'll tell you what I know.
But, first, send for a chair,
That some rest we may take
While I tell you the tale,
For, indeed, my legs ache.
Nap. Right, for you have grown fat,
And glad am I to see
Proof that the airs of Spain
So well with you agree.
Mur. Sire, you are mistaken;
But let the matter go,
For things of more account
Your majesty should know.
And, come to what must come,
Without any more ado—
For, believe me or not, sire,
All I tell you is true.
Nap. Why, what has happened now?
Good Heavens, man, speak out!
What have you seen in Spain
To put you so about?
Mur. Great Emperor of France,
Your force has been in vain;
Nor did flatteries avail—
You cannot conquer Spain.
No notice will they take
Of your promises of pay,
And peace, and rank to all,
And bull-fights every day.
Nap. But, my soldiers, do not they
In the mountains still remain?
Mur. Yes, captives they remain
With their general, Dupon,
And the eagles of France;
And every sword and gun
Might as well be a distaff,
For Castaños and his men
Have settled their account.
Nap. Peste! Because you tell it,
The tale I must believe;
From another I would not
A word of it receive.
No doubt, in Zaragoza
Our cause has better speed,
In humbling them at last
We surely must succeed.
Mur. All your force is useless;
The knaves will not submit.
If you wish to lose France,
And make an end of it,
Send it to Zaragoza,
It will find a bloody tomb,
And remain there, buried,
Until the Day of Doom.