THE SPANISH CHAMPION.1

THE warrior bow'd his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,

And sued the haughty king to free his longimprisoned sire:

"I bring thee here my fortress keys, I bring my captive train,*

4

I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!—oh, break my father's chain!"

"Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransom'd man this day; Mount thy good horse, and thou and I will meet him on his way."

Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed,

And urged, as if with lance in hand, the charger's foamy speed.

And lo from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band,

With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land. "Now haste, Bernardo, haste, for there in very truth is he,

The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see."

His dark eye flash'd, his proud breast heaved,

his cheeks' blood came and went;

He reached that grey-hair'd chieftain's side, and then, dismounting, bent

A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took:

What was there in its touch that all his fiery. spirit shook?

That hand was cold-a frozen thing-it dropped from his like lead;

He look'd up to the face above-the face was of the dead! 6

A plume waved o'er the noble brow-the brow was fixed and white:

He met at last his father's eyes, but in them was no sight.

Up from the ground he sprang, and gazed, but who could paint that gaze?"

They hush'd their very hearts that saw its horror and amaze;

They might have chained him as before that stony form he stood,

For the power was stricken from his arms, and from his lips the blood.

Father!" at length he murmured low, and wept like childhood thenTalk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!

He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown ;

He flung the falchion from his side, and in the dust sate down.

15

20

25

"He look'd up to the face above-the face was of the dead."

Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,

"No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for now;

My king is false, my hope betray'd, my father -oh! the worth,

The glory, and the loveliness, are pass'd away from earth!

"I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee yet.

I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met :

Thou wouldst have known my spirit then. For thee my fields were won; And thou hast perish'd in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!"

Then, starting from the ground once more, he seiz'd the monarch's rein,

Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train,

And, with a fierce o'ermastering, the rearing war-house led,

And sternly set them face to face the king before the dead!

"Came I not forth upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss?

Be still and gaze thou on, false king, and tell me what is this;

30

35

40

The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, give answer, where are they? If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay!

9

"Into these glassy eyes put light-be still! keep down thine ire

Bid these white lips a blessing speak-this earth is not my sire!

Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed.

Thou canst not-and, O king! his dust be mountains on thy head!"

He loosed the steed; his slack hand fell; upon the silent face

He cast one long, deep, troubled look-then turned from that sad place;

His hope was crush'd, his after-fate untold in martial strain

His banner led the spears no more amidst the hills of Spain.

45

50