Classic Poem

Commander . Does the Master know I have come to town?
F LORES . He does, sir.
O RTUÑO . The years will bring discretion.
Commander . I am Fernan Gomez de Guzman.
F LORES . To-day youth may serve as his excuse.
Commander . If he is ignorant of my name, let him respect the dignity of the High Commander.
O RTUÑO . He were ill advised to fail in courtesy.
Commander . Or he will gain little love. Courtesy is the key to favor while discourtesy is stupidity that breeds enmity.
O RTUÑO . Should a rude oaf hear how roundly he was hated, with the whole world at his heels not to bark but to bite, he would die sooner than convict himself a boor.
F LORES . Slight no man. Among equals pride is folly but toward inferiors it becomes oppression. Here neglect is want of care. The boy has not yet learned the price of favor.
Commander . The obligation which he assumed with the sword the day that the cross of Calatrava was fixed upon his breast, bound him to humility and love.
F LORES . He can intend no despite that his quick spirit shall not presently make appear.
O RTUÑO . Return, sir, nor stay upon his pleasure.
Commander . I have come to know this boy.

Master . A thousand pardons, Fernan Gomez de Guzman! I am advised of your arrival in the city.
Commander . I had just complaint of you, for my affection and our birth are holy ties, being as we are the one Master of Calatrava, and the other Commander, who subscribes himself yours wholly.
Master . I had no thought of this purposed honor, Fernando, hence a tardy welcome. Let me embrace you once again.
Commander . Vying in honor. I have staked my own on your behalf in countless causes, even answering during your minority before the Pope at Rome.
Master . You have indeed. By the holy token that we bear above our hearts, I repay your love, and honor you as I should my father.
Commander . I am well content.
Master . What news of the war at the front?
Commander . Attend and learn your obligation.
Master . Say I am already in the field.
Commander . Noble Master
Don Rodrigo Tellez Giron,
To power and rule exalted
Through bravery of a mighty sire
Who eight years since
Renounced the Mastership,
Devising it to you,
As was confirmed by oaths and surety
Of Kings and High Commanders,
Even the Sovereign Pontiff,
Pius the Second,
Concurring by his bull,
And later Paul, succeeding him,
Decreeing holily
That Don Juan Pacheco,
Noble Master of Santiago,
Should co-adjutor be
With you to serve,
Till now, his death recorded,
All government and rule
Descend upon your head,
Sole and supreme
Despite your untried years.
Wherefore take counsel,
Harkening to the voice of honor,
And follow the commitment
Of kin and allies, wisely led.
Henry the Fourth is dead.
Let all his lieges
Bend the knee forthwith
To Alonso, King of Portugal,
Heir by right in Castile
Through his wife
In tie of marriage,
Though Ferdinand,
Lord of Aragon,
Like right maintains
By title of his wife,
Isabella.
Yet to our eyes
The line of her succession is not clear,
Nor can we credit
Shadow of deception
In the right descent
Of Juana, now secure
Under the protection of your cousin,
Who loves you as a brother.
Therefore summon all the Knights
Of Calatrava to Almagro,
Thence to reduce
Ciudad Real,
Which guards the pass
Dividing Andalusia from Castile,
On both
Frowning impartially.
Few men will gain the day.
For want of soldiers
The people mount the walls,
Aided by errant knights
Faithful to Isabella,
And so pledged to Ferdinand
As King.
Strike terror, Rodrigo,
To the hearts of those who say
That this great cross
Rests heavily
Upon the sagging bosom of a child.
Consider the Counts of Urena,
From whom you spring,
Flaunting the laurels of their might
Upon the heights of fame,
Nor neglect to emulate
The Marquises of Villena,
With other gallant captains
Whose names in manifold
Brighten the outstretched wings
Of reputation.
Unsheathe your virgin sword
Till in battle, like the cross,
It drip with blood.
Of this red cross,
Blasoned on the breast,
Breathes there no votary
Whose drawn sword flashes white.
At the breast the one,
At the side the other
Must glow and flame with red!
So crown, valiant Giron,
With deeds
The immortal temple
Reared stone by stone
By your great ancestors.
Master . Fernan Gomez,
I shall march with you
Because our cause is just,
And with my kin bear arms.
If I must pass,
Then shall I pass at Ciudad Real
As a lightning stroke,
Cleaving as I pass,
While my scant years proclaim
To friend and foe alike
That when my uncle died
Was no mortality of valor.
I draw my sword
That men may see it shine,
Livid with the passion of the cross,
Maculately red.
Where hold you residence?
Send on your vassals
To combat in my train.
Commander . Few but faithful serve,
Who will contend like lions
In battle.
Fuente Ovejuna is a town
Of simple folk,
Unskilled in warfare,
Rather with plough and spade
Tilling the fields.
Master . Fuente Ovejuna, glebe of peace!
Commander . Favored possession
In these troubled times,
Pastoral, serene!
Gather your men;
Let none remain unarmed.
Master . To-day I spur my horse
And level my eager lance.

L AURENCIA . I prayed he would never come back.
P ASCUALA . When I brought the word I knew it would grieve you.
L AURENCIA . Would to God he had never seen Fuente Ovejuna!
P ASCUALA . Laurencia, many a girl has made a pretense of saying no, yet all the while her heart has been as soft as butter in her.
L AURENCIA . I am a live-oak, gnarled and twisted.
P ASCUALA . Yes, but why refuse a drink of water?
L AURENCIA . I do, be the sun never so hot, though you may not believe it. Why love Fernando? He's no husband.
P ASCUALA . No, woman.
L AURENCIA . And amen! Plenty of girls in the village have trusted the Commander to their harm.
P ASCUALA . It will be a miracle if you escape.
L AURENCIA . You are blind, because I have avoided him a full month now, Pascuala, and no quarter. Flores, who lays his snares, and that villain Ortuno, offered me a waist, a necklace and a head-dress. They praised Fernando, their master, and pictured him so great that I blushed at his very glory, but for all that they could not move me.
P ASCUALA . But where was this?
L AURENCIA . Down by the brook there, a week gone yesterday.
P ASCUALA . You're already lost, Laurencia.
L AURENCIA . No, no, no!
P ASCUALA . Maybe the priest might believe your story.
L AURENCIA . I am too innocent for the priest. In His Name, Pascuala, but of a morning rising early I had rather set me a slice of ham on the fire to munch with a crust of bread of my own kneading, filching a glass meanwhile out of the old stopped butt, once mother's back is turned, to wet my thirst, and then climb up to watch the cow thrash through the cabbages, all foaming at the mouth come noonday, while I hearten myself with a bit of egg-plant and a strip of bacon after hard walking, and return weary toward supper-time to nibble the raisins, home-grown in our own vineyard, which God fend the hail from, sitting me down with a dish of salad and pepper and olive oil, and so to bed tired at nightfall, in contentment and peace, with a prayer on my lips to be preserved from the men, devils, God knows, every one, than I would deliver myself up to their wiles for all their love and fury. What they want is to undo us, joy in the night and at dawning a maid's mourning.
P ASCUALA . You are right, Laurencia, for a sated lover flies faster than a farm sparrow. In the winter when the fields are bare they sing " tweet" under the eaves till they come by the crumbs from the farmer's board, but when the fields are green and frost has been forgotten, instead of fluttering down to sing " tweet" they hop up to the roof-tree and cry " twit," and " twit" it is at you standing down below, make the most that you can of their twitting. Men are the same. When they need us we are their very lives, their heart, their soul, their entire being, but their hunger satisfied off they fly and leave us, too, with the echo of their twitting. So I say no man can be trusted.

F RONDOSO . You defeat yourself, Barrildo.
B ARRILDO . Two judges are here who can decide between us.
M ENGO . Agree upon the forfeit and then we'll call the girls. If they favor me, you hand me both you shirts, with whatever else you have on your backs, in meed of victory.
B ARRILDO . Agreed. But what will you give if you lose?
M ENGO . My rebeck of old box, which is worth more than a granary, for God knows its like cannot be bought in the village.
B ARRILDO . Fairly said and offered.
F RONDOSO . Done! — God save you, ladies.
L AURENCIA . Frondoso calls us ladies.
F RONDOSO . The flattery of the age.
The blind we say are one-eyed,
The cross-eyed merely squint,
Pupils equal masters
While cripples barely limp;
The spendthrift fools call " open, "
The dumb now hold their tongues,
Bullies out-vie brave men,
Shouters shame the grave men,
And as for saving
Praise the miser —
None so active as the meddler
To promote the common good.
Gossips will " talk freely, "
While concede we must
The quarrelsome are just.
Boasters display their courage,
The shrinking coward " retires, "
The impudent grow witty,
The taciturn sit pretty,
All hail the idiot.
Gamblers, pray, " look forward, "
The bald deserve respect,
Admit the ass is graceful,
That large feet proclaim the faithful,
While a blotched and pimpled face-full
Is a scientific indication
Of a sluggish circulation.
The lie to-day a truth is,
Rudeness clever youth is,
And if you have a hump,
Why follow your bent
All the way over,
Without stooping
Moreover,
And so to conclude
I call you ladies,
For otherwise there is no telling what names I might call you.
L AURENCIA . In the city praise may be the fashion, Frondoso, but by my faith we have a contrary custom in the country, where words are sharp and barbed, upon tongues that are calloused to use them.
F RONDOSO . Who speaks knows.
L AURENCIA . Turn all in reverse
Know and be a bore,
Work and you have luck,
The prudent are faint-hearted,
The upright reek with muck.
Advice to-day spells insult,
Charity rank waste,
Be fair and painted ugly,
Be good, what wretched taste!
Truth is made for boobies,
No purity wins rubies,
While as for giving,
'Tis a veil for sinful living,
Fie, fie the hypocrite!
Disparage true worth always.
Dub simple faith imbecility,
Flat cowardice amiability,
Nor ever be fearful
Against the innocent
To speak an ear-full.
No woman is honest,
No beauty is chaste,
And as for virtue
There is not enough to hurt you,
For in the country
A curse
Turns merit to reverse.
M ENGO . Devil of a girl!
B ARRILDO . On my soul, she is too quick for us!
M ENGO . A pinch of spice plashed into the holy water the day of her christening.
L AURENCIA . Well, well, since you question us, let us have it without delay and judge truly.
F RONDOSO . I'll set out the argument.
L AURENCIA . Plant in season, then, and begin.
F RONDOSO . Attend, Laurencia.
L AURENCIA . Oh, I'll have an answer for you some day.
F RONDOSO . Be fair, be just.
L AURENCIA . What is this wager?
F RONDOSO . Barrildo and I oppose Mengo.
L AURENCIA . Mengo is right. So, there!
B ARRILDO . A fact is certain and plain which he denies.
M ENGO . I deny it because it's a lie and they wander from the mark.
L AURENCIA . Explain.
B ARRILDO . He maintains there is no such thing as love.
L AURENCIA . Then it takes hold of one mightily.
B ARRILDO . Yes, though it be blind, for without love the world would never go on.
M ENGO . I say little, not being able to read, though I could learn, but if the elements make the world and our bodies are made of the elements which war against each other unceasingly, causing anger and discord, then where is love?
B ARRILDO . Mengo, the world is love, here and hereafter, not discord. Harmony is love. Love is a reaching out.
M ENGO . A pulling in, according to nature, which governs all things through the resemblances that are. Love is a looking to its own, it's preservation. I raise my hand to my face to prevent the blow, I move my feet to remove me from danger to my body, my eye-lids close to shield my sight through the attraction of a mutual love.
P ASCUALA . He admits it's love, so what then? There's an end:
M ENGO . We love ourselves, no one else, that's flat.
P ASCUALA . Mengo, what a lie! And God forgive me. The love a man bears for a woman, or a beast for its mate, is a fierce, consuming passion.
M ENGO . Self-love, interest, not pure love. What is love?
L AURENCIA . A running after beauty.
M ENGO . But why run after beauty?
L AURENCIA . For the thrill and the pleasure, boy.
M ENGO . True. And the pleasure a man seeks for himself.
L AURENCIA . True again.
M ENGO . So that self-love seeks its own delight?
L AURENCIA . Granted.
M ENGO . Therefore there is no love, only we like what we like, and we intend in all things to get it, to seek delight, our delight.
B ARRILDO . One day the priest preached in the village about a man named Plato who had taught men how to love, but what Plato loved, he said, was the soul and the virtue that was hidden in it.
P ASCUALA . So the fathers teach the children in 'cademies and schools.
L AURENCIA . Yes, and don't you listen to any nonsense, either. Mengo, thank God you never knew the curse of love.
M ENGO . Were you ever in love?
L AURENCIA . In love with my honor, always.
F RONDOSO . Come, come, ladies! Decide, decide.
B ARRILDO . Who wins?
P ASCUALA . Let the priest or the sacristan cook up a reply, for Laurencia loves too much and I not a little, so how can we, siding both ways, decide?
F RONDOSO . They laugh at us.

F LORES . God guard the fair!
P ASCUALA . This man is from the Commander.
L AURENCIA . Why so brash, old goshawk, in the village?
F LORES . You meet me as a soldier.
L AURENCIA . From Don Fernando?
F LORES . The war is done, though it has cost us blood, and armies of our friends.
F RONDOSO . Say what of note our band achieved.
F LORES . I will, and that better than another, having seen it with my own eyes.
Beleaguering the city
Of Ciudad Real,
By charter royal,
The valiant Master mustered in
Two thousand foot,
Bravest among his vassals,
Beside three-hundred horse,
Churchmen and laymen,
For the crimson cross
Summons to its aid
Those who profess it on their breasts
Though robed and habited for prayer,
Crusading oft in holy cause,
Ruthless to slay the Moor,
Boldly the lad rode forth,
His 'tunic green
Embroidered with golden scrolls,
While silken cords
Caught up his sleeves,
Stayed sixfold.
Above his iron gauntlets.
His steed was sturdy stout,
A dappled roan
Bred beside the Betis,
Drinking of the willing stream
And pasturing on lush meadows,
But now in panoply of white
Bedecked, patterns of net
Flecking the snowy pools
That gemmed his mottled hide
From plumed crest
Down to the buckskin tail-piece.
At equal pace
The Commander Fernan Gomez
Bestrid a piebald charger,
Black of mane, the tail coal black,
White foaming at the nostril.
A Turkish coat of mail he wore,
Breastplate and corselet
Glowing bright orange,
Relieved with pearls and gold.
White plumes
Topped off his helmet,
Pallid plumes wind-blown,
Striking dismay,
The while his puissant arm
Banded now red, now white,
Brandished an ash-tree,
Famous as his lance
Even to Granada.
The city flew to arms,
Vain boasts of loyalty
With greed contending,
Some fearful for their homes,
Some of their treasure.
The Master breached those walls,
Flung back those surly churls,
And the heads
Of the rebel leaders,
As of those conspiring there
Against his dignity,
With a blow
Severed from the body.
We gagged the common folk,
Then beat them openly,
So in that town
The Master is feared and praised
Conjointly.
Though few in years,
By deeds, by valor and by victory
Nature in him has forged
A bolt from heaven
To rive Africa,
Her blue moon senescent
To the red cross bowed,
Obeisant.
Rich the promise
Of the rape of this fair city,
With apportionment
Of present gain
To him and the Commander.
Now hear the music sound, for zest in victory adds sweetest savor.

S ONG

Welcome, great Commander,
Many times a victor,
Men and fields mowed down!
Gusmans, arm, to battle!
Girones, strike, to battle!
Doves in peace,
Mighty in repose.
Forward to the conflict,
Strong of limb as oak-trees,
Drive the Moors before you
From Ciudad Real.
Flaunt your pennons proudly
In Fuente Ovejuna,
Valiant Fernan Gomes,
Glorious Conqueror!

Commander . Acknowledgment and thanks in this our town
Receive in token of the love you show.
A LONSO . Accept this rustic tribute to renown,
Proffered how simply. These poor meadows grow
Scant sustenance of woe.
E STEBAN . Welcome accept
To Fuente Ovejuna, whose elders glow
With pride, offering homely gifts, yet ept
To please, as pod or sprout or root, in carts
Heaped high with ruddy fruits, the produce rept
From field and orchard, ripening in our hearts,
Mellowed in crib and barnyard. First, car one
Twin hampers bears of jars, baked for these marts,
Whereto are added geese that sleekly run
Long necks from tangling nets, and shrilly shriek
Cackles of praise, paeans of booty won.
Ten salted hogs bid the next wagon creak,
Bulging with fatty trimmings and dried meat;
The skins like amber shine, side, haunch and breek.
A hundred pair of capon follow, treat
For the belly, plump hens torn from the cock
Through all the eager farms, tender and meet
For axing. Arms we lack, nor bring we stock
Of blooded steeds, nor harness for the bold,
For such in rustic hands were cheat and mock
Of love's pure gold which in our hearts is told.
Twelve wine-skins next appear, with beady wine
Filled full, in winter enemy of cold
And friendly to the soldier, ally in line
Of battle, or on defense trusty like steel,
Tempering courage, for temper springs of wine.
Unnumbered cheeses, last, jounce past awheel,
With products of the churn and dairy days,
True tokens of the love the people feel
Toward you and yours
Commander . Thanks and be gone, Alcaldes of this town. Be gone assured of favor.
A LONSO . Rest, Master, in enjoyment of our love. These cat-tails before the door and this coarse sedge grass should bear pearls to match your deserving, as indeed we pray, and yet fall short of the devotion of the village.
Commander . I accept the gifts right gladly you gone.
E STEBAN . The singers will repeat the refrain.

S ONG

Welcome, great Commander,
Many times a victor,
Men and fields mowed down!

Commander . The girls stay behind.
L AURENCIA . No, Your Excellency.
Commander . By the Lord you do! No airs nor graces!
These are soldiers here.
L AURENCIA . Pascuala, he looks your way.
P ASCUALA . Do you teach me to be modest?
Commander . I look your way, little chuck with the crook, and tend to this burr of the pasture, till she open to me.
P ASCUALA . We grew here, Master.
Commander . Pass into the house where my men will keep you safe.
L AURENCIA . If the Alcaldes go in so will we, because one is my father, but a girl by herself is just a girl and must be careful.
Commander . A word, Flores.
F LORES . Master?
Commander . How? What mean these green-briers?
F LORES . Walk straight in, girls. Come!
L AURENCIA . You let go!
F LORES . Any fool can walk.
Raining down blows upon his abject thralls
Beyond endurance.
T HE K ING . Name your captain.
S ECOND R EGIDOR . Sire,
None lives. Not one, alas, of noble blood
Survives unwounded, untaken or unslain.
I SABELLA . This cause demands an instant remedy.
The walls may be surrendered to the foe,
Who thus will boldly dominate the pass,
Entering Extremadura from the side
Of Portugal.
T HE K ING . Set forth at once, Manrique,
And with two chosen companies chastise
This arrogance, denying let or stay.
The Count of Cabra shall by our command
As swiftly follow, bravest of the house
Of Cordoba.
The front of tyranny must how
And pride lie low
In the presence of our majesty.
I SABELLA . Depart ambassador of victory.

L AURENCIA . I had not wrung the sheets, you saucy, Frondoso, when you drove me from the river bank with spying. While we gaze the country-side talks and waits on tip-toe. The sturdiest of our lads, your jacket is the gayest and the costliest, so others note what you do, and not a girl in the village nor herdsman on the hills nor down in the river bottoms but swears we are one and of right ought to be joined, while Juan Chamorro, the sacristan, leaves his piping to publish the banns, for love, they say, goes first to church. Ah, wine burst the vaults in August, and burst every pot with must but I heed them not nor attend to their chatter, though it be time, methinks, and time soon for our own good to put an end to all this idle talk and pother.
F RONDOSO . Laughing Laurencia, I die while you smile. Though I say nothing you will not hear me, till at last I have scarcely strength even to mutter. I would be your husband but you repay with taunts my faith and loyalty.
L AURENCIA . I encourage you all I can.
F RONDOSO . It's not enough. When I think of you I cannot eat, drink or sleep. I starve yet love an angel. God knows I die.
L AURENCIA . Cross yourself, Frondoso, or else bethink you of some charm.
F RONDOSO . There's a charm for two doves at the church, love, that makes them one. God set us beak to beak!
L AURENCIA . Speak to your master, Juan Rojo, if you will, and can summon the courage, else I must, since he is my uncle. Pray for the day, and hope.
F RONDOSO . Look! The Commander!
L AURENCIA . Stalking deer. Hide in the bushes.
F RONDOSO . Big bucks are hard to hide.

Commander . Aha! Following the fawn, I hit upon the doe.
L AURENCIA . I was resting from washing and return to the brookside now, Commander.
Commander . Sweet Laurencia, stay, nor obscure the beauty heaven has granted to my sight. If you have escaped my hand till now, the woe and the fields will befriend us, for they are accomplices of love. Bend your pride and let your cheek flush as it has never done yet in the village. Sebastiana, who was Pedro Redondo's wife, has been mine, and so has the chit who wedded Martin del Pozo. I came upon her two nights a bride, and she opened to me fondly.
L AURENCIA . My Lord, they had opened to so many that their fondness was no longer in question. Ask the village. God grant you luck with the deer. The cross on your breast proclaims you are no tempter of women.
Commander . You protest too much, lass. I put down my cross-bow. With my hands I will subdue these pretty wiles.
L AURENCIA . No, no! What would you? Let go!

Commander . Struggle is useless.
F RONDOSO . I take the bow. Heaven grant I do not shoot.
Commander . Yield! Have done!
L AURENCIA . Heaven help me now!
Commander . We are alone, no one will hear — —
F RONDOSO . Noble Commander, loose that girl, or your breast shall be my mark, though the cross shine clear upon it.
Commander . The dog insults me!
F RONDOSO . Here is no dog. Laurencia, flee!
L AURENCIA . Frondoso, you take care.
F RONDOSO . Go!

Commander . Only a fool deprives himself of his sword, which I, god or devil, put by, fearing to fright the chase!
F RONDOSO . By God above, Comander, if I loose this string I'll gyve you like a hawk!
Commander . Betrayed! Traitorous hind, deliver up that cross-bow. Dog, set down!
F RONDOSO . To be shot through? Hardly. Love is a warrior that yields his throne to none.
Commander . Shall a knight valiant in battle be foiled by a dumb peasant? Stay, wretch! On guard! — for I forget my rank and station.
F RONDOSO . I do not. I am a swain, but since I will to live, I take the cross-bow with me.
Commander . Ignominy, shame! I will have vengeance to the hilt. Quickly I vanish.