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“ Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransonied man this

day! Mount thy good horse ; and thou and I will meet him on his


Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed.

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

band, With one that ʼmidst 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 flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek’s hue

came and went ; He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dis

mounting, 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 looked up to the face above, the face was of the dead ! 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 light!

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Up from the ground he sprang and gazed, — but who could paint

that gaze? They hushed 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 arm, and from his lip the


* FATHER ! at length he murmured low, and wept like child

hood then : Talk 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 his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down.

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 betrayed! My father - O! the

worth, The glory, and the loveliness, are passed 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 bad

met! Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then; - for thee


fields were won ; And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no


Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the mon

arch's rein, Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier,

train ; And, with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse

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? 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!

“ 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 a king !-- his dust be mountains on thy


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 crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain : His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain.

Mrs. Hemans




ITH some good ten of his chosen men,

Bernardo hath appeared,
Before them all in the palace hall,

The lying king to beard ;
With cap in hand and eye on ground,

He came in reverend guise,
But ever and anon he frowned,

And flame broke from his eyes.

“ A curse upon thee,” cries the king,

“ Who com'st unbid to me! But what from traitor's blood should spring,

Save traitor like to thee ?
His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart, -

Perchance our champion brave
May think it were a pious part

To share Don Sancho's grave."

“ Whoever told this tale,

The king hath rashness to repeat,"
Cries Bernard, “ here my gage I fling

Before the LJAR's feet !
No treason was in Sancho's blood

No stain in mine doth lie :
Below the throne what knight will own

The coward calumny?

* The blood that I like water shed,

When Roland did advance,

By secret traitors hired and led,

To make us slaves of France :
The life of king Alphonso

I sared at Roncesval
Your words, Lord King, are recompense

Abundant for it all.

6 Your horse was down

your hope was flown
I saw the falchion shine
That soon had drunk your royal blood,

Had I not ventured mine;
But memory soon of service done

Deserteth the ingrate;
You've thanked the son for life and crown

By the father's bloody fate.

“ Ye swore upon your kingly faith

To set Don Sancho free;
But, curse upon your paltering breath!

The light he ne'er did see ;
He died in dungeon cold and dim,

By Alphonso's base decree ;
And visage blind and stiffened limb,

Were all they gave to me.

“ The king that swerveth from his word,

Hath stained his purple black ;
No Spanish lord will draw his sword

Behind a liar's back ;
But noble vengeance shall be mine,

And open hate I 'll show
The king hath injured Carpio's line,

And Bernard is his foe!”

“ Seize, seize him!' loud the King doth scream ;

“ There are a thousand here !
Let his foul blood this instant stream ;

What! caitiffs, do ye fear?
Seize, seize the traitor ! ” But not one

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