Classic Poem

Dieg. It is the time he mentioned in his letter
For snatching this farewell. The night is fierce
And dark, as if the spirit of Lozano
Were maddening to remain, and still disturb us.
But now its worst is best. Oh, my great son,
Whose rarity sends thee out of house and home
To walk the inclement world, like to the spirit
Of Nature whom thou lovest, every sound
Of the wide-washing rain and headlong wind
Makes me think piteously of thy lorn state
And filial martyrdom, till I resent
Those weak unhonouring thoughts, and see thee as
The blessed and the lofty thing thou art.
The crowd o' the elements is a pomp to thee,
Honouring at once and hiding, — with the wind
Thy trumpet, and the balmy rains thy blessing,
Shed out of heaven's own cup; and so thou goest
Attended in thy magnanimity
By angels, who look at thee and each other. —
He comes not. — Stay — a clapping of a door —
'Twas what I heard before. Some one has left it
To the impatient handling of the wind.
A hundred voices are about the air,
Which the ear hears but knows not, answering
Like ministers to the lordly call o' the blast.
They fall. No — I hear nothing — nothing, but
The beat of my heart's blood up in my temples
Ticking, and hurrying like a crazy clock. —
The rain is over; and the freshened stars,
Like glad eyes after tears, look busily
And brightly forth. They look as if they saw him.
I am so anxious and so tired, I cannot
But walk on still out of mere restlessness;
My feet and mind ache when I sit. That cry!
'Tis my good hound Ardiente. Oh, perhaps
He knows that some one comes. Pray God he may;
Or strong desire, hurrying in all my limbs,
Will, with the press of sudden impossibility,
Snap my old wits. Hark! hark! 'Tis regular counting,
And quick — a horse — it clutches the wet earth —
Now quicker still — what passing! No, — a stop —
A fiery stop — Ah ha! Look there! My boy!

Safe and alone?
Rod. Quite so, dear father.
Dieg. Ay,
Call me so twenty times, and make me proud.
Oh gracious God! What a great thing it is
To be tender and proud together.
Rod. You will now —
Eat, father, and be merry, and sleep, and live
An age out?
Dieg. Ay, so that thou flourishest too. —
His head was at my feet — Oh my blest son,
What greater name, as fond, and yet more worthy,
As young and yet more reverend, can I find
To give my large love utterance? Something must
Be done, for it will not be said: — prevent me not
From satisfying my soul; — I'll kneel.
Rod. No, no, Sir:
My dearest father!
Dieg. I will, and kiss
That hand, that took these grey hairs from the dust.
Rod. You must not —
Dieg. And set them in white honour up again,
And made my old eyes happy till they wept.
Let me do this
Rod. I cannot, Sir: nor if
I have done anything, and may demand
A pleasure in repayment, as I do,
Will you so hurt the unalterable religion
Of nature, and the first time in your life
Make your son blush.
Dieg. I am bound not to do it.
But yet I will stand from thee for a while,
To take thy nature's height, and reverence it;
And could I have received thee as I ought
In stately wise, with banquet and with song
Of victory, and lovely ladies' looks,
And all that makes a stately heart like thine
Seem what it is, I would have planted thee
Where thou shalt sit thee yet, at top o' the board
O'er canopied; for he that bowed the head
Which thou didst bow, shall be the head of the house
Of old Lain Calvo.
Rod. Sir, these stately words
Cannot but make my spirit rise within me
To look at least as though it had deserved
Such glory face to face; but oh, dear father,
Let my reward be to have kept our house
From falling in thy great respect, and worthy
Of thy true chieftainship.
Dieg. Be it as thou wilt.
But glory, my Rodrigo, still will follow thee,
And in a worldly shape; sure as the ring
That waits aloof upon a saintly head.
You smile and yet look sad.
Rod. I was thinking, father,
How I should yearn amidst a heap of glories
For one small taste of home.
Dieg. 'Tis there, my son,
Thou'lt have it most. How I indulge myself
At thy expense! Attend. You have heard the news?
Rod. No: what?
Dieg. The Moors, perhaps emboldened by
Rumours of our dissensions here at court,
Have again risen. There are five bands of them
Each headed by a king; and 'twas but now
Fresh news arrived, that they have passed beyond
Burgos itself, and plundered all about
Rod. I see.
Dieg. Yes — yes, but stay. A special messenger
Came to me from your cousin, Alvar Fanez,
A noble boy, who knows his kinsman's wishes
At all such times, — to tell me that the enemy,
Such is their confidence, and hitherto
Too just a one, will take the shortest road
To the capital by a dangerous defile;
Patience, dear boy — you shall be with them yet —
Trust me: 'tis that I meant to speak of. Now
I have ordered, on the instant, all my vassals
To get them ready for the king's assistance, —
A work that shews with double grace in me
Just now. They are assembling in the plain
Here to the left. Others' as they march on
Will join them. They expect me to send out
A leader to them, when the trumpet's tongue
Asks for him twice; and think 'twill be Bermudo;
But —
Rod. It is I?
Dieg. Ay, boy; who else? Who else?
You'll join them with your vizor down, known only
By our white plume; not because any man of them
Would give you up, but that your nobleness
Would save them from all question with the king.
Rod. Oh father, if you talk of paying me,
Thus you pay all at once.
Dieg. Martin Antolinez
Will bear my snowy banner through the darkness;
And others of your youthful friends await you;
How will you turn upon them? Salvadores,
And Gustios, and Munoz, and Alvarez,
And Galin Garcia, — ay, your favourite set,
All, all, that murmur now you are away,
And meant to grow their plumes with you in war.
The rest you know.
Rod. I come up with the Moors
In the defile, and pierce them in that pound.
Dieg. You do; and at the least prevent their coming
Further, till other forces shall arrive.
And hark!
Rod. It is the call
Dieg. The first Your horse
Is ready saddled for you in the stable,
Your favourite Baya. You will find with him
The helmet and the rest,
Rod. I have a horse
Dieg. What — not take Baya? Where did ye get the horse?
Rod. A lady gave it me.
Dieg. A lady? Not
A favourite too, I hope? Or what must I
Have made you suffer?
Rod. Not a favourite,
As you mean, father.
Dieg. So; and yet I wonder
That those who take delight —
Away, away;
I must not trust myself to hold you fast.
Rod. I'll have your blessing round me. ( He takes his father's arms, and brings them round his own body .) There! My horse
Will carry me like lightning, as it brought.
Dieg. I shall look out and see your feather go,
Like my plumed angel. I shall hear the shout too,
And then I'll sleep like an old soldier. You
Fight for a thousand fathers now
Rod. Ay, and husbands,
Lovers, and sons, and carry a victory with me
From every one.
Dieg. Bravo, boy! And the result
Is easily guessed; you know my meaning, every way.
Rod. I hope so, and I think so. There, no more —
Look not on this as on a parting, father;
I only turn to speak to you 'twixt whiles
I' the battle. There — I shall look round at the window.
Dieg. Armies of angels wheel about with you,
Like shooting walls of fire! Now — now he 's mounted.

[ Several scenes take place in this interval, among others the battle with the Moors. In the following and final scene [ VI ], the King of Castile is seated on his throne with his Nobles about him, awaiting the issue of a proclamation and challenge made against R ODRIGO , in behalf of D ONNA X IMENA , who is present when an Officer enters hastily .]