History of Charles the Great and Orlando, (Volume 2) online

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Por Dios os ruego el Page,
En amor de caridad ;

Que vayais a la Princesa,
Y de mi parte rogar,
Que suplico a su Alteza
Que ella me saiga a mirar.

Que a la hora de mi inuerte
Yo la pueda contemplar,
Que si mis ojos la ven,
Mi niuerte no penara.

Ya se parte el pagecito,
Ya se parte, ya se va,
Llorando de los ojos,
Que queria rebentar.

Topara con la Princesa,
Bien oireis lo que dira ;
Ahora es tiempo seiiora,
Que hayais de remediar,


" Tell them that you brave the scaffold,

" And with glory go to die ;
" That with this unworthy treatment

" You without regret comply."

To the Page Count Claros listen'd,

Glad to find a faithful friend.
" To the Princess, Page, I'm conscious

" You will scarce refuse to bend ?

" Oh ! entreat her when they lead me
To the scaffold, there to bleed,

" That at least she'll deign to see mt
" Suffer for love's erring deed.

" Then, her lovely sight enjoying,

" I shall ev'ry pang despise,
' Whilst I gaze with ardent rapture

" On her dear enchanting eyes."

To the beauteous Princess speeding,

Swift the Page pursues his way,
Whilst his eyes, with tears o'erflowing,

Like a spring, his grief betray.

Humbly bowing when he found her,
What he said you soon shall hear ;

" Lady, tidings sad I bring you
" Of the youth you prize so dear.


Que vuestro querido el Conde
Lo llevan a degollar.

La Infanta, que aquesto oyera,
En tierra muerta fue & dar,
Damas, duenas, y doncellas
No la pueden retornar,

Hasta que Heg6 su haya,
La que fuera a criar.
Que es aquesto, la Infanta,
Aquesto que puede estar 1

Hay triste de mi mesquina !
Que no se que puede estar,
Que si al buen Conde matan,
Yo me ire a desesperar.

Saliesedes vos mi hija,
Saliesedeslo a quitar.

Ya se parte la Infanta,
Ya se parte, y se va ;
Fuerase para el mercado,
A donde lo ban de sacar,
Vido estar el cadahalso,
En que lo ban de degollar,


" On the scaffold must he suffer,
" Suffer for your much-lov'd sake :

*' If you can, for brave Count Claros
" Gracious intercession make. 1 '

In a swoon the Princess falling,

Instant sunk upon the ground,
And the gentle dames and damsels

Hasteu'd to restore her round.

But, her nurse alone succeeding,

Calls her back to life again ;
" Whence," cries she, " my lovely mistress,

" Whence this sudden source of pain T

*' O for life, for life I care not,

" Since the hapless Count must die !

" Of all ladies, none so wretched,
" None so sore distress'd, as I !"

" Oh ! away, away, my daughter !

" Brave the fiercest, worst alarms ;
" To the scaffold fly, and tear him

" From the rude barbarians' arms I"

Like the wind the Princess flying,
Through the streets pursues her way,

Where she sees the fatal scaffold,
And prepar'd the sharp axe lay.


Damas, duenas, y doncellas,
Que lo salen a mirar.
Vido venir gente de armas,
Que lo traen a degollar ;

Los pregoneros delante,
Por sa yerro publicar,
Con el poder de la gente,
Ella no podia passar.

Apartaos gente de armas,
Todos me haced lugar,
Sino por vida del Rey,
Que a todos maude niatar.

La gente que la conoce,
Luego le hacen lugar,
Hasta que Ileg6 al Conde,
Y le comeuzo de hablar.

Esforzad, esforzad el Conde,
Y no quieras desmayar,
Que aunque yo pierda la vida,
La vuestra se ha de salvar.

El Alcalde que esto oyera,
Comenz6 de caminar,
Vase para los Palacios,
Adonde el buen Rey esta.


Gentle dames and lovely damsels

Forth to see Count Claros go,
And, in sad procession marching,

Form a train o'ercome with woe.

Heralds first, his crime proclaiming,
March'd th' unhappy Count before,

Follow'd by a troop so num'rous,
Scarce she cou'd her path explore.

" Guards, give way ! give way this instant !

" By my father's life I swear,
" He shall die that to obstruct me

*' Does with bold presumption dare !"

When the soldiers heard the Princess,

Whilst aloud she boldly cry'd,
Room to pass they freely left her,

Drawing all amaz'd aside.

" Courage ! courage ! brave Count Claros,
" Let not fear your heart dismay ;

" From the scaffold will I save you,
" Though my life the forfeit pay !"

With this speech the Marshal hastening,

Tells it to the wond'ring King,
Who with deep attention hears him

News of such strange import bring.


Venga muy presto su Alteza,
Apriessa, y no de vagar,
Que ba salido la Infanta
Para el Conde nos quitar.

Los unos manda que maten,
Y los otros ahorcar ;
Si vuestra Alteza no acude,
No lo puedo remediar.

El Rey que aquesto oyera,
Comenzo de caminar,
Y fuesse para el mercado,
Donde el Conde ha de hallar.

Qufe es aquesto, la Infanta,
Aquesto que puede estar ?
La sentencia que yo he dado
Vos la quereis revocar ?

Yoosjuro por mi Corona,
Y por mi cetro Real,
Que si heredero tuviesse,
Que me huviesse de heredar.
Que a vos, y al Conde Claros,
Vivos os haria quemar.
Que vos me mateis senor,
Muy bien me podeis matar ;
Mas suplico a vuestra Alteza,
Que si quiera acordar,
De los servicios passados.
Reynaldos de Moutalvan,


" Sire, delay not to the scaffold
" Rais'd amidst the spacious square,

** By the Count the Princess standing,
" Shouts to ev'ry soldier there,

" ' Guards, give way ! who dares to touch him,

" ' By my father's life I swear,
" * Instant vengeance shall pursue him !

" ' Wisely let him, then, forbear !'

" Urgent is the case, so urgent,

" That no doubt she'll tear him thence."
At these words the Emp'ror, rising,

Did his hasty march commence.

When he came, he cry'd, " O daughter,
" What does all this tumult mean ?

" Dare you thus oppose my mandate
" By this strange outrageous scene ?

" By my royal crown and sceptre,

" Had I but another heir,
" Both the Count and you should suffer,

" Neither shou'd my vengeance spare V

" Slay me, father ! freely slay me !

*' Take the life you gave away !
*' But Riualdo's faithful service

" Do not o unkindly pay.


Quo murio en las batallas
Por tu Corono ensalzar ;
Por lo que el padre sirvio
Al bijo galardonar.

Por mal querer de traydores,
Vos no lo debeis matar,
Que su muerte sera causa
Que me hayais de disfamar.

Mas suplico a vuestra Alteza,
Que si quiera aconsejar,
Que los Reyes con furor
No deben de sentenciar.

Porque el Conde es de linage
Del Reyno mas principal ;
Porque el era de los Poce,
Que a una mesa comen pan.

Sus amigos, y parientes
Todos te querian mal,
Y rebolverante guerras,
Tus Reynos se perderan.

El buen Rey que aquesto oyera,
Comenzara de bablar;
Consejo os pido los mios,
Que me querais consejar.


*' For your sake, in glorious battle

" Recollect he bravely dy'd :
" Shall his son be thus rewarded 1

** O not so ! not so !" she cry'd.

" Let not false deceitful traitors

*' Bring him to this cruel strait ;
" Infamy your daughter cov'ring,

" Will be her eternal fate.

" Sire, in raercy deign to listen,

" And his forfeit life restore 1
" Kings should never act with passion

" Which they oft too late deplore.

" Noble is the Count in lineage ;

" Where shall we a worthier meet,
" Of the Twelve that round one table

" Of the same rich viands eat 1

" All his friends, and all his kindred,
" 111 the deep disgrace will bear,

*' And, by war the kingdom ruin'd,
" Be no longer worth your care."

When the King heard this, revolving

All the matter in his mind,
" Friends," cries he, " I need your counsel,

" And to hearken am inclin'd."


Luego todos se apartaron,
For su consejo tomar ;
El consejo que acordaron,
Que lo hayan de perdonar.

Por quitar males, y guerras,
Por la Princesa afamar ;
Todos firman el perdon,
Y el buen Rey le fue a firman

Y tambien le aconsejaron,
Consejo fueron a dar,
Pues la Infanta quiere al Condc,
Con ella haya de casar.

El Rey que aquesto oyera,
Mandaralo deshemrr.

Baxa luego de la mula
El Arzobispo a desposar.
Y tomole de las manos,
Assi los hizo juntar ;

Los enojos, y pesares
En placer van a tornar.


From the spot aside retreating,

For a space the Nobles drew,
And at length, a pardon voting,

Soon the King their counsel knew,

Not to wound his daughter's honor,

And disastrous war to cause :
Pardon then the Emp'ror granting,

Stays the sentence of the laws.

And, inoreo'er, the Peers entreat him,
As the Princess loves the Knight,

To permit the Count to wed her,
And Rinaldo's deeds requite.

" Off then take," cries he," those irons,
" With the cords that bind him round,

" And in softer fetters let him
" Be with my fair daughter bound !"

Then, the good Archbishop calling,

He their hands delighted joins,
While each look, to pleasure waking,

Like the sun so radiant shines.

When the nuptial rites were ended,

Joy prevail'd instead of woe ;
Ev'ry past distress forgetting,

With fond love their bosoms glow.


Su tio al Conde.
No son sino conio viento
Sus nialas ciertas esperanzas,
Que no esta solo un momento
Entero su pensamiento
Sin hazer dos mil mudanzas :

Su querer son mil querellas
Por peor galardonar,
Enojos dan por placeres,
Que firmezii de mugeres
No puede mucho durar.

Responde el Conde.

Dexemos senor las arinas,
Dentro del tronco vengamos,
Nuestras honras, nuestras' famas,
Es cierto que por las damas,
Los tenemos, y cobrainos.

Por donde sin mas decir,
Ni las armas apartar,
Aqui quiero concluir,
Que yo quiero mas rnorir,
Que no de,\arlas de aiiiar.


The Count's Uncle to his Nephew.
Like the wind, your hopes, inconstant,

Ne'er for one sole moment rest,
For a thousand changes follow

Still to chase them from your breast.

E'en fond love, that seem'd so gentle,
Wears no more a smiling face ;

Taunts and bitter looks, succeeding,
Drive him from his wonted place.

Such is woman's love, so fickle
That it never rests the same.

The Count's Reply.

What are arms compar'd with woman ?
What is honor, what is fame?

For her sake we often keep them,
Oft recover when they're lost.

Why, then, shou'd my wand'ring bosom
Be with endless fancies tost?

Cease, oh ! cease now to persuade me,
Nought my steady soul shall move :

Arms and fame till death Til cherish,
Woman never cease to love.






FOR la parte donde vido
Mas sangrienta la batalla,
Se metia Montesinos
Liana de augustia, y safia,





THESE Ballads of Montesinni, Durandarte, and Eelerma,
are mentioned in the 6th chapter of the 3d book and 2d part of
Don Quixote, in the famous visit the Knight pays to the Cave of
Montesinos in La Mancha; to which we refer the reader. Bat at
the same time must not omit to mention, that the Ballad of Duran-
darte, which Mr. Lewis translated, is to be found in a small vo-
lume of Romances in the possession of R. Heber, Esq., being th
only one relative to the Twelve Peers of France in that book.



MID the thickest of the battle,
Where he sees the tumult rage,

Flies the gallant Montesinos,
Still impatient to engage.


Quantos con la lanza encuentra,
A tierra los derrivaba,
La yegua tambien ayuda,
Que a muchos atropellaba.

Lugar le hacen, como a toro
For do quiera que passaba ;
Echo el enojo Montesinos,
For todo el cainpo miraba.

Vi6 un Moro esforzado,
Que mucho se aventajaba ;
Un alfange trae el Moro,
Tenido en sangre de Francia.

Este es aquel Albenzayde,
Que entre todos tiene faina ;
Caballero en una yegua
Hermosa, rucia, y manchada.

Como le vi6 Montesinos,
Encendido en ira, y sana,
Di6 de espuelas a la yegua,
Y en los pecbos le encontrara.

Y fue tan recio el encuentro,
Que a tierra lo derrivaba,
Del golpe que dio en el suelo
Hizo pedazos la lanza;


All that his strong arm encounters

In a moment he o'erthrows ;
Well his noble steed assists him,

Beating down the numerous foes.

As to some fierce boll grown furious,
Room where'er he turns they yield,

Not less fierce does Montesinos
Dart like lightning round the field ;

And a huge Moor sees before him,

Who in daring feats excell'd,
Steep'd in blood of France his sabre,

And with pride his bosom sweil'd.

Twas the mighty Albenzayde,

Who a fame illustrious bore ;
Mounted on a beauteous charger,

Dapple-grey, advanc'd the Moor.

Soon as Moutesinos ey'd him,

With still deeper rage he buru'd ;
Spurr'd his fiery steed to meet him,

And his pointed jav'lin turn'd.

Dreadful was the dire encounter ;

As he flung him to the ground,
His strong lance, to pieces shiver'd,

Gave a sure and mortal wound.


No le quedo a Montesinos
Sino un peel xo de asta ;
Como se vi6 de tal suerte,
For todo el canipo miraba.

Vio la batalla rompida,
Sus gentes desbarratadas,
Y la Flor de Lises de oro,
Los Moros las arrastraban.

No v6 golpe de Oliveros,
Ni oye al Senor de Brana,
Cubierto de sangre, y polvo,
Se salio de la batalla,

En busca de Durandarte,
Que de lexos divisaba,
Que con heridas de muerte
De la batalla escapaba.



In the hand of M ontesinos,

See, the stump alone remains !
When he found the weapon useless,

Round he view'd the hostile plains.

There he saw his army ruin'd,

And his soldiers overthrown,
All the fleurs de lys lie scatter'd,

In the pow'r of Moors alone.

He no more brave Oliveros,

Nor the Lord of Brana, spies ;
When, with blood and dust all cover'd,

From the fatal field he hies ;

Gallant Durandarte seeking,

Who had long retir'd afar,
With a mortal wound retreating

From the dreadful scene of war.





POR el rastro de la sangre
Que Durandarte dexaba,
Caminaba Montesinos
For un aspera montana.

A la hora que camina
Ann no era bien de manana,
Las canipanas de Paris
Tocan la seiial del Alva.

Como viene de la guerra,
True las annas destrozadas,
Solo en la niano derecha
Trae un pedazo de lanza.





BY the blood of Durandarte,
By the track he left behind,

O'er a mountain Montesinos,
Rough and steep, his path inclin'd.

Forward as he pensive journey'd,
Scarce had beaoi'd the morning ray.

When the bells of Paris sounding
Told the early dawn of day.

Hewn to pieces was his armour,

Soil'd with blood, no longer bright ;

But his left hand held the bridle,
And his spear's poor half his right :


De azia la parte del cuento,
Que el hierro alia lo dexaba
En el cuerpo de Albenzayde,
Un Moro de gran fania.

Trae aquesta asta el Frances,
Porque le sirva de vara,
Para hacer andar la yegua,
Que la llevaba cansada.

Mirando iba la yerva,
Como estaba ensangrenlada ;
Saltos le da el corazon,
Y sospechas le da el alma ;

Pensando si seria alguno
De los amigos de Francia,
Confuso en esta sospecha
Azia una hay a caminaba :

Vi6 un Caballero tendido,
Que parece que le llama,
Dale voces que se llegue,
Que el alma se le arrancaba.

No le conoce el Frances,
Por mucho que le miraba,
Porque le turban la vista
Las cintas de la zelada.


Forks fellow-half lay bury'd

In the bosom of a Moor ;
111 the mighty Albenzayde's,

Welt'ring whom he left in gore.

Useless was the broken remnant,

Save to make his charger go ;
Who, fatigu'd, advances forward.

Still with painful step and slow.

All along the greensward trav'lling,
When he saw it stain'd with blood,

Wildly throbb'd his manly bosom,
Fear his gen'rous soul subdu'd.

Dreading sore to find some Chieftain,
E'en the dearest of his friends

Thus in deep suspense remaining,
Tow'rds a lofty hedge he bends.

Stretch'd beneath he found a warrior
Who he thought his name express'd ;

Hark ! again he faintly calls him,
As the life's blood leaves his breast.

Montesinos little knows him,

Though he views the Knight so near,

For his beaver, closely fasten'd,
Will not let his face appear.


Apeose de la yegua
Y desarm61e la cara,
Conoci6 al prime, que quiso
En la vida mas que el alma.

Fuele a hacer compania
En las ultimas palabras ;
1 herido habla al sano,
Y el sano al herido abraza.

Y por no hablarle llorando,
Detiene un poco la habla ;
Viendole junto de si,
Desta inanera le habla.

O mi primo Montesinos,
Mai nos fue en esta batalla
Pues nmri5 en ella Roldan,
El marido de Donalda.

Cautivaron k Guarinos,
Capitan de nuestra esquadra ;
Heridas tengo de muerte,
Que el corazon me traspassan.

Lo que os encomiendo primo,
Lo postrero que rogaba,
Que quando yo sea muerto,
V mi cuerpo este sin alma- ;


From his steed at length alighting,
Anguish seiz'd him, when he found

'Twas his cousin Durandarte
Dying of a mortal wound.

When the warriors knew each other,

Deeply sigh'd each noble breast,
When his cousin Montesinos

Durandarte thus address'd :

(Though, at first, sad sobs prevented

Ev'ry word he wish'd to say,
Till his voice, an utt'rance finding,

Sore bewaiPd the fatal day.)

" Long may France lament this battle,
" Her best soldiers strew the plain ;

" Brave Count Palatine Orlando
" Lies at Roucesvalles slain.

" Bleeding, too, in pain and misery,

" On the dusty ground I lie :
" Well I know my wound is mortal ;

" Cousin, I must shortly die !

" But one favor I entreat you,
*' When my soul to heav'n is fled,

*' And when fast with sorrow streaming,
" Your sad eyes behold me dead,


Me saqueis el corazon
Con esta pequena daga,
Y lo lleveis a Belerma,
La mi linda enamorada.

Y la direis de mi parte,
Muero en esta batalla ;
Que quien muerto se lo embia
Vivo no se lo negara
Dareisla todas mis tierras
Quantos yo sefioreaba,
Que los vienes del Cautivo,
El senor los heredaba.
Estas palabras diciendo,
El alma se le arrancaba.


*' Take my heart out from my body,

" And to dear Belerma l>ear ;
" Tell her, cousin, I consign it

" To her kind and tender care :

" Tell her that, in battle dying,
" Twas the last request I made,

* That the heart, which dearly lov'd her,
*' To her arms shou'd be convey 'd.

" All my fair estates I leave her,

" Say, my friend, they're all her own :"
Utt'ring this, the fainting hero

Gave a loud expiring groan.





MuERTO yace Durandarte
Debaxa una verde haya,
Con el esta Montesinos
Que a la su muerte se halla.

Haciendole esta la fosa
Con una pequena daga,
Quitandole esta el almete,
Descinendole la espada.

Por el costado siniestro
1 corazon le sacara ;
Assi hablara con el,
Coino quando vivo estaba.




CLOS'D in death lies Durandarte,

Montesinos sees him die,
And, awhile in sorrow musing,

Heaves a deep distressing sigh.

, When he saw him mute and lifeless,
And the warmth his corse forsook,
From his friend his sword and helmet,
And his armour off he took.

Then, with bitter anguish weeping,
He fulfils his last request ;

And, the hero's left side opening,
Takes the heart out from his breast.

VOL. n, T


Corazon del mas valiente
Que en Francia cenia Espada,
Ahora sereis llevado,
Adonde Belerma estaba.
Enibolviole en un cendal,
Y consigo lo llevaba :
Entierra primero al primo,
Con gran llanto lanientaba
La su tan teuiprana niuerte,
Y suerte desdichada.
Torna a subir en la yegua,
Su cara en agua banada,
Ponese luego el almete,
Y muy recio le enlazaba,
No quiera ser conocido
Hasta hacer su embaxada,
Y presentarle a Belerma,
Segun que se lo encargara,
El sangriento corazon,
Que ii Durandarte sacara.
Oaniina triste, y penoso,
Ninguna COSE le agrada,
For do quiere andar la yegua,
For alll dexa que vaya,
Hasta que entro por Parts,
No sabe en que parte estaba,
Derecho vk a los Palacios
Adonde Belerma


When he saw it lie before him,
Loud he rais'd the voice of woe :

" Cousin, like a fountain streaming
" O'er thy heart my tears shall flow.

" Never France a warrior boasted

" More undaunted in the fight :
" Mild in peace, in war a lion ;

" Never liv'd a better Knight.

" To the grave thy corse consigning,
" Long thy virtues still shall live;

" But thy heart to fair Belerma
" Will I, as thou bad'st me, give."

Deep he digs the grave, the body

Leaving to its native clay ;
Takes a parting look, and, weeping,

Bears the hero's heart away ;

From all eyes his face concealing

Till he had Belerma seen ;
Round his head his helmet fast'ning,

On he rides with pensive inieu ;

And, the gates of Paris ent'ring,

To Belerma's palace goes,
To distract her gentle bosom,

And afflict her soul with woes.






EN Francia estaba Belerma,
Alegre y regocijada,
Hablando con sus doncellas,
Como otras veces usaba.

Dice, y afinna jurando,
Entre todas levantada,
Que se juzga ciertamente
La mas bienaventurada
De las damas de su tiempo,
Y qualquier edad passada,
Pues la sirve Durandarte,
Galan muy digno de fama,
Mas gallardo, y gentil hombre,
De quantos cinen espada.





LAUGHING with her damsels round her,
With a gay and sprightly mien,

As in France the fair Belerma
Was in bloom of beauty seen ;

With a playful air she rises,

And with smiles her thoughts express'd,
" Liv'd there ever yet a lady

" Like Belerma truly bless'd ?

" Gallant Durandarte loves me ;

" Never did a Knight so true
" Lead his gallant troops to battle,

" And the stubborn foe subdue."


Nadie entienda que esto digo
Por estar enamorada^
Que /cierto que no le viendo,
En viendole lo juzgara.

Nunca aviso y gentileza
Tuvieron una posada,
Como aquesta que la tiene
En lo mejor de mi alma.

Y diciendo estas razones
Cayo en tierra desmayada,
Mas bolviendo en si Belerma
De esta manera hablaba :
Que es aquesta amigas mias,
Algun mal se me acercaba,
Que nunca mi corazon
Aquestas muestras me daba,
Sin que luego ciertamente
Me acuda alguna desgracia.

Bolvi6 sus ojos Belerma,
Que mil perlas destilaba,
Vi6 venir a Montesinos
De la infeiiz batalla,


Partial lest that some might deem her,

She in calmer voice exclaim'd,
" Not as one enamour'd speaking

" Have I Durandarte nam'd.

" Ev'ry eye that sees the hero

" Must his gen'rous worth confess ;

" Matchless in the field of battle,
" Nor in noble lineage less.

" Courteous, gentle, and engaging ;

" Cou'd a maid her love control,
" While his image reign'd triumphant

*' In the inmost of her soul V

As she spoke, Belerma fainted,

Falling back upon the floor ;
But, recov'ring, thus she utter'd,

" Evil sure is nigh the door !

" Never so my heart misgave me,

" Never felt such throbbing pain ;
" It forebodes some strange disaster

" I am fated to sustain."

Pearly tears her eyes distilling,
Round she turn'd, and from the fight,

Slowly and fatigu'd approaching,
Montesinos met her sight.


Con el rostro mustio, y triste,
La color uesemejada ;
Trae escrito en su semblante
La nueva que reportaba.

Lleg6 do estk Belerma,
De rodillas se postraba ;
Quiere hablar, y no acierta,
Y quando acierta no osaba.

Mas al fin eon poco aliento,
Dice con la voz turbada ;
Nuevas te traygo senora,
Que son de grande desgracia.

Primero que me las digas,
La dama le replicaba,
Que es de tu querido primo ?
Donde esta ? Como quedaba ?

Muerto queda mi senora
Debaxo una verde haya ;
Veis aqui su corazon,
Yo mismo se lo sacara ;

Porque al punto de la innerte
La palabra me tomara,
Porque viesses tu senora,
Quanto del eres umada.


Pale and sad the hero's visage,

All its ancient lustre fled ;
On it wrote the dire misfortune

That Belerma seem'd to dread.

On his knees he bent before her,

Pitying much the weeping fair ;
Fain had spoke, but -could not utter,

When he cou'd, he did not dare.

With a sigh his voice recov'ring,
" Hark !" he cries, in accents low ;

" News I bring you, lovely lady,

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Online LibraryPseudo-TurpinHistory of Charles the Great and Orlando, (Volume 2) → online text (page 9 of 11)