THE

SEVEN HEADS.

I.

WHO bears such heart of baseness, a king I'll never call—”

Thus spake Gonzalo Gustos within Almanzor's hall;

To the proud Moor Almanzor, within his kingly hall,

The grey-hair'd knight of Lara thus spake before them all :—

II.

"In courteous guise, Almanzor, your messenger was sent,

And courteous was the answer with which from me he went ;

For why? I thought the word he brought of a knight and of a king,— But false Moor henceforth never me to his feast shall bring.

III.

"Ye bade me to your banquet, and I at your bidding came,

And accursed be the villany, and eternal be the shame—

For ye have brought an old man forth, that he your sport might be:Thank God, I cheat you of your joy-Thank God, no tear you see.

IV.

My gallant boys," quoth Lara," it is a heavy sight,

These dogs have brought your father to look upon this night;

Seven gentler boys, nor braver, were never nursed in Spain,

And blood of Moors, God rest your souls, ye shed on her like rain.

V.

"Some currish plot, some trick (God wot,) hath laid you all so low, Ye died not all together in one fair battle so;

Not all the misbelievers ever prick'd upon yon plain

The seven brave boys of Lara in open field had slain.

VI.

"The youngest and the weakest, Gonzalez dear, wert thou,
Yet well this false Almanzor remembers thee, I trow;

Oh, well doth he remember how on his helmet rung
Thy fiery mace, Gonzalez, although thou wert so young.

VII.

Thy gallant horse had fallen, and thou hadst mounted thee Upon a stray one in the field-his own true barb had he;

Oh, hadst thou not pursued his flight upon that runaway,

Ne'er had the caitiff 'scaped that night, to mock thy sire to-day!

VIII.

"False Moor, I am thy captive thrall; but when thou badest me forth, To share the banquet in thy hall, I trusted in the worth

Of kingly promise.-Think'st thou not my God will hear my prayer?— Lord! branchless be (like mine) his tree, yea, branchless, Lord, and bare !"

IX.

So pray'd the Baron in his ire, but when he look'd again,

Then burst the sorrow of the sire, and tears ran down like rain ; Wrath no more could check the sorrow of the old and childless man, And like waters in a furrow, down his cheeks the salt tears ran.

X.

He took their heads up one by one-he kiss'd them o'er and o'er,
And aye ye saw the tears down run-I wot that grief was sore.
He closed the lids on their dead eyes all with his fingers frail,
And handled all their bloody curls, and kiss'd their lips so pale.-

XI.

"O had ye.died all by my side upon some famous day,
My fair young men, no weak tears then had wash'd your blood
The trumpet of Castille had drown'd the misbelievers' horn,
And the last of all the Lara's line a Gothic spear had borne."-

XII.

away!

With that it chanced a Moor drew near, to lead him from the place,
Old Lara stoop'd him down once more, and kiss'd Gonsalez' face;
But e'er the man observed him, or could his gesture bar,
Sudden he from his side had grasp'd that Moslem's scymitar.

XIII.

Oh! swiftly from its scabbard the crooked blade he drew,

And, like some frantic creature, among them all he flew—

Where, where is false Almanzor ?-back, bastards of Mahoun !"

And here and there, in his despair, the old man hew'd them down.

XIV.

A hundred hands, a hundred brands, are ready in the hall

But ere they master'd Lara, thirteen of them did fall;

He has sent, I ween, a good thirteen of dogs that spurn'd his God, To keep his children company, beneath the Moorish sod.

F

THE

VENGEANCE OF MUDARRA.

[This is another of the many ballads concerning the Infants of Lara. One verse of it,

-El espera que tu diste a los Infantes de Lara!

Aqui moriras traydor ene.nigo de Donna Sancha,

is quoted by Sancho Panza, in one of the last chapters of Don Quixote.]

To the chase goes Rodrigo, with hound and with hawk ;
But what game he desires is reveal'd in his talk,—
“O, in vain have I slaughter'd the Infants of Lara :
There's an heir in his halls-there's the bastard Mudarra.
There's the son of the renegade-spawn of Mahoun—
If I meet with Mudarra, my spear brings him down.”—

II.

While Rodrigo rides on in the heat of his wrath,

A stripling, arm'd cap-a-pee, crosses his path

"Good morrow, young esquire."- "Good morrow, old knight.”—

"Will you ride with our party, and share our delight?”—

66

Speak your name, courteous stranger," the stripling replied;

Speak your name and your lineage, ere with you I ride.”