The Army of SheepBut surely the most mirth-provoking of all the adventures of Don Quixote is that in which he takes a flock of sheep for an army. He and Sancho were riding at bridle-pace over a wide plain, when they perceived a thick cloud of dust in the distance.“The day is come,” cried the knight, “the happy day that fortune has reserved for me, and in which the strength of my arm shall be signalized by such exploits as shall be transmitted even to the latest posterity. Seest thou yonder cloud of dust? Know then that it is raised by a prodigious army marching this way and composed of an infinite number of nations.”The wretched Don’s brain was of course full to overflowing of the accounts of those stupendous battles of myriads of paynims which, as we have seen, are so frequently encountered in the old romances, and he was delightedwhen Sancho pointed out that two separate hosts seemed to be approaching from different points of the compass.“Ha, so!” cried Don Quixote, flourishing his lance, “then shall we assist the weaker side. Know, Sancho, that the host which now confronts us is commanded by the great Alifanfaron, Emperor of the Island of Taprobana. The other that advances behind us is his sworn enemy, Pentapolin of the Naked Arm, King of the Garamantians.”“Pray, sir,” quoth Sancho, “what is the cause of this quarrel between two such great men?”“It is a simple matter,” answered Don Quixote. “The pagan Alifanfaron dares to make his addresses to the daughter of Pentapolin, who has told him that he will have naught of him unless he abjure his false beliefs.”“If a battle be at hand,” said Sancho nervously, “where shall I place my ass, for I fear he will not prove of much avail in the charge.”“True,” answered Don Quixote. “We will soon provide a destrier for thee when the knights begin to fall from their saddles. But let us scan their ranks. He who wears the gilded arms and bears on his shield a crowned lion couchant at the feet of a lady is the valiant Lord Luarcalco, Lord of the Silver Bridge. Yonder is the formidable Micocolembo, the great Duke of Quiracia, wearing armour powdered with flowers of gold. The gigantic form upon his right is the dauntless Brandabarbaran, sovereign of the Three Arabias, whose armour is made of serpents’ skins, and who carries for a shield the gate of the temple which Samson pulled down at his death. But our allies also advance. Yonder marches Timonel of Carcaxona, Prince of New Biscay, who bears on his shield a catorin a fieldgules, with themotto ‘Miau.’ Beside him rides Espartafilardo of the Wood, whose blue shield is powdered with asparagus plants. But the pagans press on. To the right cluster those who drink the pleasant stream of the Xanthus, there the rude mountaineers of Massilia, behind them those who gather gold from the sands of Arabia Felix, the treacherous Numidians, the bowmen of Persia, the Medes and Parthians who fight flying, the houseless Arabians, and the sooty Ethiopians.”“Upon my soul,” cried Sancho, “surely thy magicians are at work again, for not a single knight, giant or man can I see of all those you talk of now.”“Blockhead!” cried Don Quixote. “Hark to the neighing of countless horses, the fanfare of the trumpets, and the thunder of many drums.”“Surely this is sorcery,” replied the puzzled Sancho, “for I hear nothing but the bleating of sheep.”“Retreat, if thou fearest the engagement,” replied the Don, with a haughty sneer, “for I with my single arm am sufficient to give the victory to that side which I shall favour with my assistance,” and with a loud and warlike cry he couched his lance, clapped spurs to the lean side of Rozinante, and charged like a thunderbolt into the plain, crying: “Courage, brave knights! Woe upon that great infidel Alifanfaron of Taprobana.”In another moment he was among the flock of sheep, charging through and through it, and piercing an animal at each thrust of his lance. The shepherds, in great dismay, unloosed their slings and began to ply him with stones as big as their fists. But, disdainful of this petty artillery, he cried upon Alifanfaron, whom in imagination he was about to engage, when a stone as big as a good-sized pippin struck him heavily upon theshort ribs. Thinking himself desperately wounded, he pulled out the earthen flask which contained his magic balsam; but just as he was in the act of raising this to his lips, a stone from the sling of a shepherd struck it so forcibly as to shiver it to atoms, and passing through it broke three of his teeth and tumbled him from the saddle. The shepherds, fearing that they had killed him, picked up the dead sheep and made off, leaving him more dead than alive.
The Army of SheepBut surely the most mirth-provoking of all the adventures of Don Quixote is that in which he takes a flock of sheep for an army. He and Sancho were riding at bridle-pace over a wide plain, when they perceived a thick cloud of dust in the distance.“The day is come,” cried the knight, “the happy day that fortune has reserved for me, and in which the strength of my arm shall be signalized by such exploits as shall be transmitted even to the latest posterity. Seest thou yonder cloud of dust? Know then that it is raised by a prodigious army marching this way and composed of an infinite number of nations.”The wretched Don’s brain was of course full to overflowing of the accounts of those stupendous battles of myriads of paynims which, as we have seen, are so frequently encountered in the old romances, and he was delightedwhen Sancho pointed out that two separate hosts seemed to be approaching from different points of the compass.“Ha, so!” cried Don Quixote, flourishing his lance, “then shall we assist the weaker side. Know, Sancho, that the host which now confronts us is commanded by the great Alifanfaron, Emperor of the Island of Taprobana. The other that advances behind us is his sworn enemy, Pentapolin of the Naked Arm, King of the Garamantians.”“Pray, sir,” quoth Sancho, “what is the cause of this quarrel between two such great men?”“It is a simple matter,” answered Don Quixote. “The pagan Alifanfaron dares to make his addresses to the daughter of Pentapolin, who has told him that he will have naught of him unless he abjure his false beliefs.”“If a battle be at hand,” said Sancho nervously, “where shall I place my ass, for I fear he will not prove of much avail in the charge.”“True,” answered Don Quixote. “We will soon provide a destrier for thee when the knights begin to fall from their saddles. But let us scan their ranks. He who wears the gilded arms and bears on his shield a crowned lion couchant at the feet of a lady is the valiant Lord Luarcalco, Lord of the Silver Bridge. Yonder is the formidable Micocolembo, the great Duke of Quiracia, wearing armour powdered with flowers of gold. The gigantic form upon his right is the dauntless Brandabarbaran, sovereign of the Three Arabias, whose armour is made of serpents’ skins, and who carries for a shield the gate of the temple which Samson pulled down at his death. But our allies also advance. Yonder marches Timonel of Carcaxona, Prince of New Biscay, who bears on his shield a catorin a fieldgules, with themotto ‘Miau.’ Beside him rides Espartafilardo of the Wood, whose blue shield is powdered with asparagus plants. But the pagans press on. To the right cluster those who drink the pleasant stream of the Xanthus, there the rude mountaineers of Massilia, behind them those who gather gold from the sands of Arabia Felix, the treacherous Numidians, the bowmen of Persia, the Medes and Parthians who fight flying, the houseless Arabians, and the sooty Ethiopians.”“Upon my soul,” cried Sancho, “surely thy magicians are at work again, for not a single knight, giant or man can I see of all those you talk of now.”“Blockhead!” cried Don Quixote. “Hark to the neighing of countless horses, the fanfare of the trumpets, and the thunder of many drums.”“Surely this is sorcery,” replied the puzzled Sancho, “for I hear nothing but the bleating of sheep.”“Retreat, if thou fearest the engagement,” replied the Don, with a haughty sneer, “for I with my single arm am sufficient to give the victory to that side which I shall favour with my assistance,” and with a loud and warlike cry he couched his lance, clapped spurs to the lean side of Rozinante, and charged like a thunderbolt into the plain, crying: “Courage, brave knights! Woe upon that great infidel Alifanfaron of Taprobana.”In another moment he was among the flock of sheep, charging through and through it, and piercing an animal at each thrust of his lance. The shepherds, in great dismay, unloosed their slings and began to ply him with stones as big as their fists. But, disdainful of this petty artillery, he cried upon Alifanfaron, whom in imagination he was about to engage, when a stone as big as a good-sized pippin struck him heavily upon theshort ribs. Thinking himself desperately wounded, he pulled out the earthen flask which contained his magic balsam; but just as he was in the act of raising this to his lips, a stone from the sling of a shepherd struck it so forcibly as to shiver it to atoms, and passing through it broke three of his teeth and tumbled him from the saddle. The shepherds, fearing that they had killed him, picked up the dead sheep and made off, leaving him more dead than alive.
The Army of SheepBut surely the most mirth-provoking of all the adventures of Don Quixote is that in which he takes a flock of sheep for an army. He and Sancho were riding at bridle-pace over a wide plain, when they perceived a thick cloud of dust in the distance.“The day is come,” cried the knight, “the happy day that fortune has reserved for me, and in which the strength of my arm shall be signalized by such exploits as shall be transmitted even to the latest posterity. Seest thou yonder cloud of dust? Know then that it is raised by a prodigious army marching this way and composed of an infinite number of nations.”The wretched Don’s brain was of course full to overflowing of the accounts of those stupendous battles of myriads of paynims which, as we have seen, are so frequently encountered in the old romances, and he was delightedwhen Sancho pointed out that two separate hosts seemed to be approaching from different points of the compass.“Ha, so!” cried Don Quixote, flourishing his lance, “then shall we assist the weaker side. Know, Sancho, that the host which now confronts us is commanded by the great Alifanfaron, Emperor of the Island of Taprobana. The other that advances behind us is his sworn enemy, Pentapolin of the Naked Arm, King of the Garamantians.”“Pray, sir,” quoth Sancho, “what is the cause of this quarrel between two such great men?”“It is a simple matter,” answered Don Quixote. “The pagan Alifanfaron dares to make his addresses to the daughter of Pentapolin, who has told him that he will have naught of him unless he abjure his false beliefs.”“If a battle be at hand,” said Sancho nervously, “where shall I place my ass, for I fear he will not prove of much avail in the charge.”“True,” answered Don Quixote. “We will soon provide a destrier for thee when the knights begin to fall from their saddles. But let us scan their ranks. He who wears the gilded arms and bears on his shield a crowned lion couchant at the feet of a lady is the valiant Lord Luarcalco, Lord of the Silver Bridge. Yonder is the formidable Micocolembo, the great Duke of Quiracia, wearing armour powdered with flowers of gold. The gigantic form upon his right is the dauntless Brandabarbaran, sovereign of the Three Arabias, whose armour is made of serpents’ skins, and who carries for a shield the gate of the temple which Samson pulled down at his death. But our allies also advance. Yonder marches Timonel of Carcaxona, Prince of New Biscay, who bears on his shield a catorin a fieldgules, with themotto ‘Miau.’ Beside him rides Espartafilardo of the Wood, whose blue shield is powdered with asparagus plants. But the pagans press on. To the right cluster those who drink the pleasant stream of the Xanthus, there the rude mountaineers of Massilia, behind them those who gather gold from the sands of Arabia Felix, the treacherous Numidians, the bowmen of Persia, the Medes and Parthians who fight flying, the houseless Arabians, and the sooty Ethiopians.”“Upon my soul,” cried Sancho, “surely thy magicians are at work again, for not a single knight, giant or man can I see of all those you talk of now.”“Blockhead!” cried Don Quixote. “Hark to the neighing of countless horses, the fanfare of the trumpets, and the thunder of many drums.”“Surely this is sorcery,” replied the puzzled Sancho, “for I hear nothing but the bleating of sheep.”“Retreat, if thou fearest the engagement,” replied the Don, with a haughty sneer, “for I with my single arm am sufficient to give the victory to that side which I shall favour with my assistance,” and with a loud and warlike cry he couched his lance, clapped spurs to the lean side of Rozinante, and charged like a thunderbolt into the plain, crying: “Courage, brave knights! Woe upon that great infidel Alifanfaron of Taprobana.”In another moment he was among the flock of sheep, charging through and through it, and piercing an animal at each thrust of his lance. The shepherds, in great dismay, unloosed their slings and began to ply him with stones as big as their fists. But, disdainful of this petty artillery, he cried upon Alifanfaron, whom in imagination he was about to engage, when a stone as big as a good-sized pippin struck him heavily upon theshort ribs. Thinking himself desperately wounded, he pulled out the earthen flask which contained his magic balsam; but just as he was in the act of raising this to his lips, a stone from the sling of a shepherd struck it so forcibly as to shiver it to atoms, and passing through it broke three of his teeth and tumbled him from the saddle. The shepherds, fearing that they had killed him, picked up the dead sheep and made off, leaving him more dead than alive.
The Army of SheepBut surely the most mirth-provoking of all the adventures of Don Quixote is that in which he takes a flock of sheep for an army. He and Sancho were riding at bridle-pace over a wide plain, when they perceived a thick cloud of dust in the distance.“The day is come,” cried the knight, “the happy day that fortune has reserved for me, and in which the strength of my arm shall be signalized by such exploits as shall be transmitted even to the latest posterity. Seest thou yonder cloud of dust? Know then that it is raised by a prodigious army marching this way and composed of an infinite number of nations.”The wretched Don’s brain was of course full to overflowing of the accounts of those stupendous battles of myriads of paynims which, as we have seen, are so frequently encountered in the old romances, and he was delightedwhen Sancho pointed out that two separate hosts seemed to be approaching from different points of the compass.“Ha, so!” cried Don Quixote, flourishing his lance, “then shall we assist the weaker side. Know, Sancho, that the host which now confronts us is commanded by the great Alifanfaron, Emperor of the Island of Taprobana. The other that advances behind us is his sworn enemy, Pentapolin of the Naked Arm, King of the Garamantians.”“Pray, sir,” quoth Sancho, “what is the cause of this quarrel between two such great men?”“It is a simple matter,” answered Don Quixote. “The pagan Alifanfaron dares to make his addresses to the daughter of Pentapolin, who has told him that he will have naught of him unless he abjure his false beliefs.”“If a battle be at hand,” said Sancho nervously, “where shall I place my ass, for I fear he will not prove of much avail in the charge.”“True,” answered Don Quixote. “We will soon provide a destrier for thee when the knights begin to fall from their saddles. But let us scan their ranks. He who wears the gilded arms and bears on his shield a crowned lion couchant at the feet of a lady is the valiant Lord Luarcalco, Lord of the Silver Bridge. Yonder is the formidable Micocolembo, the great Duke of Quiracia, wearing armour powdered with flowers of gold. The gigantic form upon his right is the dauntless Brandabarbaran, sovereign of the Three Arabias, whose armour is made of serpents’ skins, and who carries for a shield the gate of the temple which Samson pulled down at his death. But our allies also advance. Yonder marches Timonel of Carcaxona, Prince of New Biscay, who bears on his shield a catorin a fieldgules, with themotto ‘Miau.’ Beside him rides Espartafilardo of the Wood, whose blue shield is powdered with asparagus plants. But the pagans press on. To the right cluster those who drink the pleasant stream of the Xanthus, there the rude mountaineers of Massilia, behind them those who gather gold from the sands of Arabia Felix, the treacherous Numidians, the bowmen of Persia, the Medes and Parthians who fight flying, the houseless Arabians, and the sooty Ethiopians.”“Upon my soul,” cried Sancho, “surely thy magicians are at work again, for not a single knight, giant or man can I see of all those you talk of now.”“Blockhead!” cried Don Quixote. “Hark to the neighing of countless horses, the fanfare of the trumpets, and the thunder of many drums.”“Surely this is sorcery,” replied the puzzled Sancho, “for I hear nothing but the bleating of sheep.”“Retreat, if thou fearest the engagement,” replied the Don, with a haughty sneer, “for I with my single arm am sufficient to give the victory to that side which I shall favour with my assistance,” and with a loud and warlike cry he couched his lance, clapped spurs to the lean side of Rozinante, and charged like a thunderbolt into the plain, crying: “Courage, brave knights! Woe upon that great infidel Alifanfaron of Taprobana.”In another moment he was among the flock of sheep, charging through and through it, and piercing an animal at each thrust of his lance. The shepherds, in great dismay, unloosed their slings and began to ply him with stones as big as their fists. But, disdainful of this petty artillery, he cried upon Alifanfaron, whom in imagination he was about to engage, when a stone as big as a good-sized pippin struck him heavily upon theshort ribs. Thinking himself desperately wounded, he pulled out the earthen flask which contained his magic balsam; but just as he was in the act of raising this to his lips, a stone from the sling of a shepherd struck it so forcibly as to shiver it to atoms, and passing through it broke three of his teeth and tumbled him from the saddle. The shepherds, fearing that they had killed him, picked up the dead sheep and made off, leaving him more dead than alive.
The Army of Sheep
But surely the most mirth-provoking of all the adventures of Don Quixote is that in which he takes a flock of sheep for an army. He and Sancho were riding at bridle-pace over a wide plain, when they perceived a thick cloud of dust in the distance.“The day is come,” cried the knight, “the happy day that fortune has reserved for me, and in which the strength of my arm shall be signalized by such exploits as shall be transmitted even to the latest posterity. Seest thou yonder cloud of dust? Know then that it is raised by a prodigious army marching this way and composed of an infinite number of nations.”The wretched Don’s brain was of course full to overflowing of the accounts of those stupendous battles of myriads of paynims which, as we have seen, are so frequently encountered in the old romances, and he was delightedwhen Sancho pointed out that two separate hosts seemed to be approaching from different points of the compass.“Ha, so!” cried Don Quixote, flourishing his lance, “then shall we assist the weaker side. Know, Sancho, that the host which now confronts us is commanded by the great Alifanfaron, Emperor of the Island of Taprobana. The other that advances behind us is his sworn enemy, Pentapolin of the Naked Arm, King of the Garamantians.”“Pray, sir,” quoth Sancho, “what is the cause of this quarrel between two such great men?”“It is a simple matter,” answered Don Quixote. “The pagan Alifanfaron dares to make his addresses to the daughter of Pentapolin, who has told him that he will have naught of him unless he abjure his false beliefs.”“If a battle be at hand,” said Sancho nervously, “where shall I place my ass, for I fear he will not prove of much avail in the charge.”“True,” answered Don Quixote. “We will soon provide a destrier for thee when the knights begin to fall from their saddles. But let us scan their ranks. He who wears the gilded arms and bears on his shield a crowned lion couchant at the feet of a lady is the valiant Lord Luarcalco, Lord of the Silver Bridge. Yonder is the formidable Micocolembo, the great Duke of Quiracia, wearing armour powdered with flowers of gold. The gigantic form upon his right is the dauntless Brandabarbaran, sovereign of the Three Arabias, whose armour is made of serpents’ skins, and who carries for a shield the gate of the temple which Samson pulled down at his death. But our allies also advance. Yonder marches Timonel of Carcaxona, Prince of New Biscay, who bears on his shield a catorin a fieldgules, with themotto ‘Miau.’ Beside him rides Espartafilardo of the Wood, whose blue shield is powdered with asparagus plants. But the pagans press on. To the right cluster those who drink the pleasant stream of the Xanthus, there the rude mountaineers of Massilia, behind them those who gather gold from the sands of Arabia Felix, the treacherous Numidians, the bowmen of Persia, the Medes and Parthians who fight flying, the houseless Arabians, and the sooty Ethiopians.”“Upon my soul,” cried Sancho, “surely thy magicians are at work again, for not a single knight, giant or man can I see of all those you talk of now.”“Blockhead!” cried Don Quixote. “Hark to the neighing of countless horses, the fanfare of the trumpets, and the thunder of many drums.”“Surely this is sorcery,” replied the puzzled Sancho, “for I hear nothing but the bleating of sheep.”“Retreat, if thou fearest the engagement,” replied the Don, with a haughty sneer, “for I with my single arm am sufficient to give the victory to that side which I shall favour with my assistance,” and with a loud and warlike cry he couched his lance, clapped spurs to the lean side of Rozinante, and charged like a thunderbolt into the plain, crying: “Courage, brave knights! Woe upon that great infidel Alifanfaron of Taprobana.”In another moment he was among the flock of sheep, charging through and through it, and piercing an animal at each thrust of his lance. The shepherds, in great dismay, unloosed their slings and began to ply him with stones as big as their fists. But, disdainful of this petty artillery, he cried upon Alifanfaron, whom in imagination he was about to engage, when a stone as big as a good-sized pippin struck him heavily upon theshort ribs. Thinking himself desperately wounded, he pulled out the earthen flask which contained his magic balsam; but just as he was in the act of raising this to his lips, a stone from the sling of a shepherd struck it so forcibly as to shiver it to atoms, and passing through it broke three of his teeth and tumbled him from the saddle. The shepherds, fearing that they had killed him, picked up the dead sheep and made off, leaving him more dead than alive.
But surely the most mirth-provoking of all the adventures of Don Quixote is that in which he takes a flock of sheep for an army. He and Sancho were riding at bridle-pace over a wide plain, when they perceived a thick cloud of dust in the distance.
“The day is come,” cried the knight, “the happy day that fortune has reserved for me, and in which the strength of my arm shall be signalized by such exploits as shall be transmitted even to the latest posterity. Seest thou yonder cloud of dust? Know then that it is raised by a prodigious army marching this way and composed of an infinite number of nations.”
The wretched Don’s brain was of course full to overflowing of the accounts of those stupendous battles of myriads of paynims which, as we have seen, are so frequently encountered in the old romances, and he was delightedwhen Sancho pointed out that two separate hosts seemed to be approaching from different points of the compass.
“Ha, so!” cried Don Quixote, flourishing his lance, “then shall we assist the weaker side. Know, Sancho, that the host which now confronts us is commanded by the great Alifanfaron, Emperor of the Island of Taprobana. The other that advances behind us is his sworn enemy, Pentapolin of the Naked Arm, King of the Garamantians.”
“Pray, sir,” quoth Sancho, “what is the cause of this quarrel between two such great men?”
“It is a simple matter,” answered Don Quixote. “The pagan Alifanfaron dares to make his addresses to the daughter of Pentapolin, who has told him that he will have naught of him unless he abjure his false beliefs.”
“If a battle be at hand,” said Sancho nervously, “where shall I place my ass, for I fear he will not prove of much avail in the charge.”
“True,” answered Don Quixote. “We will soon provide a destrier for thee when the knights begin to fall from their saddles. But let us scan their ranks. He who wears the gilded arms and bears on his shield a crowned lion couchant at the feet of a lady is the valiant Lord Luarcalco, Lord of the Silver Bridge. Yonder is the formidable Micocolembo, the great Duke of Quiracia, wearing armour powdered with flowers of gold. The gigantic form upon his right is the dauntless Brandabarbaran, sovereign of the Three Arabias, whose armour is made of serpents’ skins, and who carries for a shield the gate of the temple which Samson pulled down at his death. But our allies also advance. Yonder marches Timonel of Carcaxona, Prince of New Biscay, who bears on his shield a catorin a fieldgules, with themotto ‘Miau.’ Beside him rides Espartafilardo of the Wood, whose blue shield is powdered with asparagus plants. But the pagans press on. To the right cluster those who drink the pleasant stream of the Xanthus, there the rude mountaineers of Massilia, behind them those who gather gold from the sands of Arabia Felix, the treacherous Numidians, the bowmen of Persia, the Medes and Parthians who fight flying, the houseless Arabians, and the sooty Ethiopians.”
“Upon my soul,” cried Sancho, “surely thy magicians are at work again, for not a single knight, giant or man can I see of all those you talk of now.”
“Blockhead!” cried Don Quixote. “Hark to the neighing of countless horses, the fanfare of the trumpets, and the thunder of many drums.”
“Surely this is sorcery,” replied the puzzled Sancho, “for I hear nothing but the bleating of sheep.”
“Retreat, if thou fearest the engagement,” replied the Don, with a haughty sneer, “for I with my single arm am sufficient to give the victory to that side which I shall favour with my assistance,” and with a loud and warlike cry he couched his lance, clapped spurs to the lean side of Rozinante, and charged like a thunderbolt into the plain, crying: “Courage, brave knights! Woe upon that great infidel Alifanfaron of Taprobana.”
In another moment he was among the flock of sheep, charging through and through it, and piercing an animal at each thrust of his lance. The shepherds, in great dismay, unloosed their slings and began to ply him with stones as big as their fists. But, disdainful of this petty artillery, he cried upon Alifanfaron, whom in imagination he was about to engage, when a stone as big as a good-sized pippin struck him heavily upon theshort ribs. Thinking himself desperately wounded, he pulled out the earthen flask which contained his magic balsam; but just as he was in the act of raising this to his lips, a stone from the sling of a shepherd struck it so forcibly as to shiver it to atoms, and passing through it broke three of his teeth and tumbled him from the saddle. The shepherds, fearing that they had killed him, picked up the dead sheep and made off, leaving him more dead than alive.