APPENDICE

Como natural appendice e illustração aos dois precedentes livros, transcreverei aqui a traducção ingleza de alguns romances do primeiro, que o meu amigo Sir John Adamson publicou no segundo volume da suaLUSITANIA ILLUSTRATA[141].

E approveito ésta occasião para agradecer publicamente ao illustre biographo de Camões a distincta honra que me fez associando o meu humilde nome ao do mais célebre homem d’estado de Portugal, o lamentado Duque de Palmella, quando nos dedicou os dois primeiros volumes d’aquella sua estimada collecção.

A versão ingleza tem o raro merecimento de ser em extremo fiel e quasi litteral, sacrificando muitas vezes a propria elegancia da linguagem á exacção do pensamento e até da propria phrase.

‘Night reigns o’er Earth and Air—O St. John, my St. John,Ere fated hour speed on,Hear thou my prayer!Hear me thou, blessed Saint!Christian Saint, hear my prayer,Tho’ my faith Moslem were,Thine without taint.Far from Mohammed gone,Alkoran nought to me,I bow my heart to thee,Saint of Dom John!As I consume this plantIn the fire made to thee,Love glows anew in me—Hear my heart pant!As burns this plant on floorIn the fire lit for thee,So let the black beard beOf threatening Moor!As burns the kindling lightThis thy devoted flow’r,So may Love’s genial pow’rKindle my knight!From height of heav’n amainScatter the garlands gayThat in this Love spell maySpring forth again—Marvellous falling dewsThat cure Love’s burning grief,My Saint! their cool reliefDo not refuse!Saint! whom soft pitie’s move,O St. John, my St John,‘Ere glide this blest night onBring me my love!’No more the fire you see—Hush’d is the gushing pray’rYet still the maiden thereBends on the knee.Upraised her anxious eyeWhile throbs the glowing breastWhere Faith and Meekness restWith Purity.Kindly the Saint look’d on,And by his fav’ring aidBlooms now that happy maidBride of Dom John!

‘Night reigns o’er Earth and Air—O St. John, my St. John,Ere fated hour speed on,Hear thou my prayer!

‘Night reigns o’er Earth and Air—

O St. John, my St. John,

Ere fated hour speed on,

Hear thou my prayer!

Hear me thou, blessed Saint!Christian Saint, hear my prayer,Tho’ my faith Moslem were,Thine without taint.

Hear me thou, blessed Saint!

Christian Saint, hear my prayer,

Tho’ my faith Moslem were,

Thine without taint.

Far from Mohammed gone,Alkoran nought to me,I bow my heart to thee,Saint of Dom John!

Far from Mohammed gone,

Alkoran nought to me,

I bow my heart to thee,

Saint of Dom John!

As I consume this plantIn the fire made to thee,Love glows anew in me—Hear my heart pant!

As I consume this plant

In the fire made to thee,

Love glows anew in me—

Hear my heart pant!

As burns this plant on floorIn the fire lit for thee,So let the black beard beOf threatening Moor!

As burns this plant on floor

In the fire lit for thee,

So let the black beard be

Of threatening Moor!

As burns the kindling lightThis thy devoted flow’r,So may Love’s genial pow’rKindle my knight!

As burns the kindling light

This thy devoted flow’r,

So may Love’s genial pow’r

Kindle my knight!

From height of heav’n amainScatter the garlands gayThat in this Love spell maySpring forth again—

From height of heav’n amain

Scatter the garlands gay

That in this Love spell may

Spring forth again—

Marvellous falling dewsThat cure Love’s burning grief,My Saint! their cool reliefDo not refuse!

Marvellous falling dews

That cure Love’s burning grief,

My Saint! their cool relief

Do not refuse!

Saint! whom soft pitie’s move,O St. John, my St John,‘Ere glide this blest night onBring me my love!’

Saint! whom soft pitie’s move,

O St. John, my St John,

‘Ere glide this blest night on

Bring me my love!’

No more the fire you see—Hush’d is the gushing pray’rYet still the maiden thereBends on the knee.

No more the fire you see—

Hush’d is the gushing pray’r

Yet still the maiden there

Bends on the knee.

Upraised her anxious eyeWhile throbs the glowing breastWhere Faith and Meekness restWith Purity.

Upraised her anxious eye

While throbs the glowing breast

Where Faith and Meekness rest

With Purity.

Kindly the Saint look’d on,And by his fav’ring aidBlooms now that happy maidBride of Dom John!

Kindly the Saint look’d on,

And by his fav’ring aid

Blooms now that happy maid

Bride of Dom John!

It was the early morn of May Day,When the song birds wake the grove,And teeming trees and opening flowersOwn the glow of kindling love;It was the early morn of May Day,On the fresh bank of the waveSat the Infanta RosalindaBent her flowing locks to lave.Flowers they bring her red and rosy,Flowers they bring her virgin white—But on a blossom soft as she isQuesting eye may never light.Softer far is RosalindaThan the rose that decks the thorn—Purer than the purest lilyThat opes to weep at dewy morn.The Count High-Admiral passed by herIn his galley of the sea—On each side so many rowersTold aright they may not be.Of the captive bands who row’d it—All from Afric’s bosom torn—Some were proud and mighty noblesSome of kingly blood were born.Betwixt Ceuta and GibraltarIf one Moor in safety be,Ill at ease the Lord Count sailethIn his galley of the sea.O! how gentle glides the galleyAnswering well the guiding oar—More gentle still he who commands it,Skill’d to leave or gain the shore.—‘Count Lord Admiral tell me trulyFrom your galley of the sea,If the captives that you conquerAll to row compelled be?—‘Fair Infanta! tell me trulyWithout equal, Rose so fair!The many slaves that gladly tend theeTire they all thy flowing hair?’—‘Art thou courteous, Count! so lordlyAsking thus—not answering me?’—‘Answer thou, and I will answer,To me thou must not silent be.Of the slaves who round me muster,Each the allotted task doth know;Some aloft the sails to manage,Some upon the bench to row.The lady captives soft and gentleTwine on deck the mazy dance—Deftly wearing flowery carpets,Couch for Lord in dreamy trance.’—‘Thou’st answer’d, and I answer thee—For good the law that bids re-pay.I have slaves for every purpose—Slaves who all my will obey.Some to fit my varied vestmentsSome to tire my flowing hair—For one I keep another office,But him my toils must yet ensnare!’—‘He’s ta’en-be’s thine! So fully captur’dThat ne’er would he be ransom’d more!Pull to the land—the land, ye vassals,And drive the galley high ashore!’Then sweet with fairest RosalindaAnd noble Count the moments sped—While orange groves her form o’ershadow’dAnd flowrets garlanded her head.But crabbed fate, that will not sufferAny good without allay,Led the steps of the king’s huntsman,As he roam’d to walk that way.—‘What thine eyes have seen, O huntsman!Huntsman! prithee do not tell.Purses fill’d with gold I give thee,As much as thou can carry well.’All the royal huntsman witness’dDid he to the King make known,On study bent in private closetThoughtful sitting and alone.—‘Whisper low the news you bring me,And we give thee guerdon rare;Raise on high thy voice to sound it,And we hang thee high in air.To arms—to arms, my faithful Archers,Without the rousing war-pipes sound,My Cavaliers, and trusty foot-men,Haste the grove to circle round!’It is not yet the glow of mid-day,Loud and long the bell doth boom!It is not yet the gloom of midnight,Walk they both to meet their doom!To the sound of Ave-Marias,Both are tomb’d in solemn state;She before the altar holy,He beneath the western gate.Soon the grave of RosalindaDid a Royal tree disclose,Soon the grave of Count so nobleShow’d a bed of softest rose.When the Monarch heard the marvels,Quick he bade them both destroy,Giving to the ruthless flame eachRecord of departed joy.The trees they cut, and roses scatter,Still the emblems thrive again;E’en as the air which them embracingFeeleth neither wound nor pain.The King when he was told the storyCeased he to speak for aye,And when the Queen the wonder heardMoan’d she thus her dying lay:—‘Call me not Queen!—a Queen no longer,She who such dread deed hath done!Two spotless souls I’ve rent asunder,Whom heav’n would fain have joined in one!’

It was the early morn of May Day,When the song birds wake the grove,And teeming trees and opening flowersOwn the glow of kindling love;

It was the early morn of May Day,

When the song birds wake the grove,

And teeming trees and opening flowers

Own the glow of kindling love;

It was the early morn of May Day,On the fresh bank of the waveSat the Infanta RosalindaBent her flowing locks to lave.

It was the early morn of May Day,

On the fresh bank of the wave

Sat the Infanta Rosalinda

Bent her flowing locks to lave.

Flowers they bring her red and rosy,Flowers they bring her virgin white—But on a blossom soft as she isQuesting eye may never light.

Flowers they bring her red and rosy,

Flowers they bring her virgin white—

But on a blossom soft as she is

Questing eye may never light.

Softer far is RosalindaThan the rose that decks the thorn—Purer than the purest lilyThat opes to weep at dewy morn.

Softer far is Rosalinda

Than the rose that decks the thorn—

Purer than the purest lily

That opes to weep at dewy morn.

The Count High-Admiral passed by herIn his galley of the sea—On each side so many rowersTold aright they may not be.

The Count High-Admiral passed by her

In his galley of the sea—

On each side so many rowers

Told aright they may not be.

Of the captive bands who row’d it—All from Afric’s bosom torn—Some were proud and mighty noblesSome of kingly blood were born.

Of the captive bands who row’d it—

All from Afric’s bosom torn—

Some were proud and mighty nobles

Some of kingly blood were born.

Betwixt Ceuta and GibraltarIf one Moor in safety be,Ill at ease the Lord Count sailethIn his galley of the sea.

Betwixt Ceuta and Gibraltar

If one Moor in safety be,

Ill at ease the Lord Count saileth

In his galley of the sea.

O! how gentle glides the galleyAnswering well the guiding oar—More gentle still he who commands it,Skill’d to leave or gain the shore.

O! how gentle glides the galley

Answering well the guiding oar—

More gentle still he who commands it,

Skill’d to leave or gain the shore.

—‘Count Lord Admiral tell me trulyFrom your galley of the sea,If the captives that you conquerAll to row compelled be?

—‘Count Lord Admiral tell me truly

From your galley of the sea,

If the captives that you conquer

All to row compelled be?

—‘Fair Infanta! tell me trulyWithout equal, Rose so fair!The many slaves that gladly tend theeTire they all thy flowing hair?’

—‘Fair Infanta! tell me truly

Without equal, Rose so fair!

The many slaves that gladly tend thee

Tire they all thy flowing hair?’

—‘Art thou courteous, Count! so lordlyAsking thus—not answering me?’—‘Answer thou, and I will answer,To me thou must not silent be.

—‘Art thou courteous, Count! so lordly

Asking thus—not answering me?’

—‘Answer thou, and I will answer,

To me thou must not silent be.

Of the slaves who round me muster,Each the allotted task doth know;Some aloft the sails to manage,Some upon the bench to row.

Of the slaves who round me muster,

Each the allotted task doth know;

Some aloft the sails to manage,

Some upon the bench to row.

The lady captives soft and gentleTwine on deck the mazy dance—Deftly wearing flowery carpets,Couch for Lord in dreamy trance.’

The lady captives soft and gentle

Twine on deck the mazy dance—

Deftly wearing flowery carpets,

Couch for Lord in dreamy trance.’

—‘Thou’st answer’d, and I answer thee—For good the law that bids re-pay.I have slaves for every purpose—Slaves who all my will obey.

—‘Thou’st answer’d, and I answer thee—

For good the law that bids re-pay.

I have slaves for every purpose—

Slaves who all my will obey.

Some to fit my varied vestmentsSome to tire my flowing hair—For one I keep another office,But him my toils must yet ensnare!’

Some to fit my varied vestments

Some to tire my flowing hair—

For one I keep another office,

But him my toils must yet ensnare!’

—‘He’s ta’en-be’s thine! So fully captur’dThat ne’er would he be ransom’d more!Pull to the land—the land, ye vassals,And drive the galley high ashore!’

—‘He’s ta’en-be’s thine! So fully captur’d

That ne’er would he be ransom’d more!

Pull to the land—the land, ye vassals,

And drive the galley high ashore!’

Then sweet with fairest RosalindaAnd noble Count the moments sped—While orange groves her form o’ershadow’dAnd flowrets garlanded her head.

Then sweet with fairest Rosalinda

And noble Count the moments sped—

While orange groves her form o’ershadow’d

And flowrets garlanded her head.

But crabbed fate, that will not sufferAny good without allay,Led the steps of the king’s huntsman,As he roam’d to walk that way.

But crabbed fate, that will not suffer

Any good without allay,

Led the steps of the king’s huntsman,

As he roam’d to walk that way.

—‘What thine eyes have seen, O huntsman!Huntsman! prithee do not tell.Purses fill’d with gold I give thee,As much as thou can carry well.’

—‘What thine eyes have seen, O huntsman!

Huntsman! prithee do not tell.

Purses fill’d with gold I give thee,

As much as thou can carry well.’

All the royal huntsman witness’dDid he to the King make known,On study bent in private closetThoughtful sitting and alone.

All the royal huntsman witness’d

Did he to the King make known,

On study bent in private closet

Thoughtful sitting and alone.

—‘Whisper low the news you bring me,And we give thee guerdon rare;Raise on high thy voice to sound it,And we hang thee high in air.

—‘Whisper low the news you bring me,

And we give thee guerdon rare;

Raise on high thy voice to sound it,

And we hang thee high in air.

To arms—to arms, my faithful Archers,Without the rousing war-pipes sound,My Cavaliers, and trusty foot-men,Haste the grove to circle round!’

To arms—to arms, my faithful Archers,

Without the rousing war-pipes sound,

My Cavaliers, and trusty foot-men,

Haste the grove to circle round!’

It is not yet the glow of mid-day,Loud and long the bell doth boom!It is not yet the gloom of midnight,Walk they both to meet their doom!

It is not yet the glow of mid-day,

Loud and long the bell doth boom!

It is not yet the gloom of midnight,

Walk they both to meet their doom!

To the sound of Ave-Marias,Both are tomb’d in solemn state;She before the altar holy,He beneath the western gate.

To the sound of Ave-Marias,

Both are tomb’d in solemn state;

She before the altar holy,

He beneath the western gate.

Soon the grave of RosalindaDid a Royal tree disclose,Soon the grave of Count so nobleShow’d a bed of softest rose.

Soon the grave of Rosalinda

Did a Royal tree disclose,

Soon the grave of Count so noble

Show’d a bed of softest rose.

When the Monarch heard the marvels,Quick he bade them both destroy,Giving to the ruthless flame eachRecord of departed joy.

When the Monarch heard the marvels,

Quick he bade them both destroy,

Giving to the ruthless flame each

Record of departed joy.

The trees they cut, and roses scatter,Still the emblems thrive again;E’en as the air which them embracingFeeleth neither wound nor pain.

The trees they cut, and roses scatter,

Still the emblems thrive again;

E’en as the air which them embracing

Feeleth neither wound nor pain.

The King when he was told the storyCeased he to speak for aye,And when the Queen the wonder heardMoan’d she thus her dying lay:

The King when he was told the story

Ceased he to speak for aye,

And when the Queen the wonder heard

Moan’d she thus her dying lay:

—‘Call me not Queen!—a Queen no longer,She who such dread deed hath done!Two spotless souls I’ve rent asunder,Whom heav’n would fain have joined in one!’

—‘Call me not Queen!—a Queen no longer,

She who such dread deed hath done!

Two spotless souls I’ve rent asunder,

Whom heav’n would fain have joined in one!’

Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,There found I grapes both fine and sweet;So ripe are they—so highly colour’d—They are saying ‘come and eat.’—‘I wish to know who ’tis that guards them:Hast, Mordomo! hast and know’Says the King to his Mordomo,But why did the king say so?Because the king saw in that mountain,How saw he her I do not know—That incomparable Dona...My reading does not tell me how.Who to her sorrow is a Countess,Countess she of Valderey:Rather would she, by my halidom,Rather—a poor peasant be.Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,Grapes which the king will go to greet:So ripe are they, so highly colour’d,They are saying ‘come and eat.’Comes the Mordomo from the mountain:—‘Best of news to you I bring;Though the vineyard is well guarded,Yet have I enter’d, Senhor King!‘The owner is in other countries,When come he back, I cannot say;The gate is old—the yielding portressTo key of gold gave ready way.‘To a wonder that key serv’d me;All was soon adjusted so,That this eve at hour of midnightWith you I’ll to the vintage go.’—‘Your’e worth a kingdom’—my Mordomo!Grand reward I’ll make to thee.This eve then, at the hour of midnightRich grapes shall be eat by me.’Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,More grapes than I before did meet:So beautiful and so ripe are they,They are saying ‘come and eat.’In the dead of the midnight hourWent the Mordomo—went the king—Of doblas to the portress giv’n,’Tis not for me the account to sing.—‘Mordomo! stay you at the portal,The portal where I enter in,Let not guard—dogs with me grapple,Whil’st the grapes I’m gathering.’The portress now to meet his wish,Exchange for what he gave doth bring;At the chamber of the CountessBehold there entereth the king.She bore a lamp both rich and massy,It was of silver, I could see.Nought but of silver or of goldIs in the house of Valderey.The fresh green leaves are in the vineyard,The grapes in it are ripe and sweet:So beautiful—so warmly colour’d—Ah me, of them when shall I eat?All in the chamber of the CountessGold was with silver suited well,It was the Heav’n of that Angel,No more hath my poor tongue to tell.Rich silks were there of Millan,The towels were of Courtenay;The King he trembled—if from terrorOr from good faith, I cannot say.Green silk curtains hung before him,Still he ne’er essay’d to raise;The vision bright I may not sing,That daunted thus his baffled gaze.It was a thing so passing lovely...What more to say I do not ween.Dainties other such as this,You may not see, nor have I seen.Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,Saw I there grapes ripe and sweet:So beautiful and so ripe are they—They are saying ‘come and eat.’Slept she there so undisturb’dAs I in heav’n above shall sleep—Jesus! when I find thee there,If innocent thy law I keep.On his knees then all the nightGood did the King ill thought withstand;Gazing, wond’ring thus to see her,Without moving foot or hand.And thus he said —‘Oh God, my sire!Pardon what I ask’d before:This angel here so pure and brightIt is not I will injure her.’The vineyard hath fresh green leaves in it,Grapes found I in it ripe and sweet;But I fear to tamper with them...Ah! of them I will not eat.Now came on the shining morrow,Then it was, as goes the tale,The Mordomo a whistle heard:—‘Jesus Lord, now me avail!’This was the appointed signalThe mode the Count was us’d to take—The king did not the curtains drawSaying: ‘I will not vintage make.’Beautiful green leaves hath the vineyard,In it I found grapes lovely sweet;But my conscience inward grieves me,Grapes like these I will not eat.Mordomo ran with rapid vigourIn order that the king may flee.—‘Alas a slipper I have lost.’—‘Take one of mine I give to thee.’They fled, but in another instantSince the whistle they did hear,Descends the Count from off the mountain.—‘If he shall catch us, woe and fear!’One fear barass’d the Mordomo,Other fear assail’d the King:Which of them had reason greater,Soon unto you will I sing.Green leaves saw I in the vineyard,Grapes quite ripe and richly sweet;But, by his tender conscience guarded,Quoth the King:—‘I will not eat.’Seeketh now the Count his tower,The valiant Count of Valderey;He lit upon the broider’d slipper...How it chanc’d I cannot say.To the chamber of the CountessGoes he... Will he strike the blow?Serenely sleeping doth he see her:—‘Jesus! I know not what to do.’In disorder is the household...—‘God have me in his holy keep!Either witch must be this woman,Or this same slipper mock’d my sleep.’‘The slipper which I have before me,The slipper it bespeaks no good:Who could think that she could slumberIn so pure and gentle mood.’Wild the doubts that rise within him:—‘Help me Heaven! with guiding light,Baffling madness louring roundForbids me see my path aright.Oh! my vineyard so well guarded!The precious grapes which there I left...Where is the fruit on which I counted?Tell me of which I am bereft?’Straight the Count himself imprison’dIn highest tower of Valderey:—‘Ne’er shall bread assuage my hunger,Ne’er shall wine my thirst allay.Beard and hair grown rough and ragged,Care from me shall ne’er receive;Till the truth be plain before me,Ne’er will I this refuge leave.Oh! ye green leaves of the vineyardGrapes that I no more may taste!Quickly may ye pine and wither,Quickly pine like me and waste.’Thrice the sun hath sunk and ris’n,Still groaning thus he lonely sate,While faithful Countess grieving utter’d:‘How shall I soothe his mournful state?’Whither may she flee for succour?Who shall aid and solace bring?Innocence may challenge pity...Where shall she went? Unto the King!—‘That I some remedy may find thee,Faithful Countess, quickly go:The secret of his sad affliction.Be’t mine or here or there to know.On leal word of CavalleiroTroth and faith I plight to thee,Pure you shall be found and spotless,Or I myself shall recreant be.’Oh! the green leaves of the Vine tree!Grapes I sought with eager haste!To the soul their beauty touch’ me,Bloom so pure I dar’d not taste.Quickly thence the Countess hurried;The king, he did not tarry more.What they say I wish to hear,So will I listen at the door.Hist!—A voice of heavenly sweetnessSteals upon his ravished ears—While this sad plaint the mourner sangMocking music of the spheres.—‘Once I was a Vine well guarded,Taught by tending Love to grow:Now I lack that fost’ring nurture...Why—I scarce dare ask to know.’Then shone out the Royal goodness...Tears of pity dimm’d his eye:—‘Quick of the other side inform me,That the truth I may descry.’—‘My fresh vineyard so well guarded,When I enter’d it again,Trace of plundering thief I noted...What he stole I ask in vain.’Ceased the Count o’erwhelm’d with sorrow,But then laughing said the King:(Whether at self or at the mournerAim’d that laugh, I cannot sing.)—’Twas I who did the vineyard enter,Of plundering thief I left the trace;Grapes I saw—but Heav’n so save me—Not a grape did I displace.’A fracture was there in the portalThe slipper from his foot he tore:—‘Need’st thou proof? behold it here.’Its fellow from within he bore.Of the joy that followed afterLittle need I more impart,Glad the Count the truth admitted,And the King play’d the kingly part.Fresh green leaves hath the vineyard,Richest grapes were those I saw;It was fear that kept them safely,Fear of God and of his law.

Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,There found I grapes both fine and sweet;So ripe are they—so highly colour’d—They are saying ‘come and eat.’

Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,

There found I grapes both fine and sweet;

So ripe are they—so highly colour’d—

They are saying ‘come and eat.’

—‘I wish to know who ’tis that guards them:Hast, Mordomo! hast and know’Says the King to his Mordomo,But why did the king say so?

—‘I wish to know who ’tis that guards them:

Hast, Mordomo! hast and know’

Says the King to his Mordomo,

But why did the king say so?

Because the king saw in that mountain,How saw he her I do not know—That incomparable Dona...My reading does not tell me how.

Because the king saw in that mountain,

How saw he her I do not know—

That incomparable Dona...

My reading does not tell me how.

Who to her sorrow is a Countess,Countess she of Valderey:Rather would she, by my halidom,Rather—a poor peasant be.

Who to her sorrow is a Countess,

Countess she of Valderey:

Rather would she, by my halidom,

Rather—a poor peasant be.

Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,Grapes which the king will go to greet:So ripe are they, so highly colour’d,They are saying ‘come and eat.’

Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,

Grapes which the king will go to greet:

So ripe are they, so highly colour’d,

They are saying ‘come and eat.’

Comes the Mordomo from the mountain:—‘Best of news to you I bring;Though the vineyard is well guarded,Yet have I enter’d, Senhor King!

Comes the Mordomo from the mountain:

—‘Best of news to you I bring;

Though the vineyard is well guarded,

Yet have I enter’d, Senhor King!

‘The owner is in other countries,When come he back, I cannot say;The gate is old—the yielding portressTo key of gold gave ready way.

‘The owner is in other countries,

When come he back, I cannot say;

The gate is old—the yielding portress

To key of gold gave ready way.

‘To a wonder that key serv’d me;All was soon adjusted so,That this eve at hour of midnightWith you I’ll to the vintage go.’

‘To a wonder that key serv’d me;

All was soon adjusted so,

That this eve at hour of midnight

With you I’ll to the vintage go.’

—‘Your’e worth a kingdom’—my Mordomo!Grand reward I’ll make to thee.This eve then, at the hour of midnightRich grapes shall be eat by me.’

—‘Your’e worth a kingdom’—my Mordomo!

Grand reward I’ll make to thee.

This eve then, at the hour of midnight

Rich grapes shall be eat by me.’

Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,More grapes than I before did meet:So beautiful and so ripe are they,They are saying ‘come and eat.’

Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,

More grapes than I before did meet:

So beautiful and so ripe are they,

They are saying ‘come and eat.’

In the dead of the midnight hourWent the Mordomo—went the king—Of doblas to the portress giv’n,’Tis not for me the account to sing.

In the dead of the midnight hour

Went the Mordomo—went the king—

Of doblas to the portress giv’n,

’Tis not for me the account to sing.

—‘Mordomo! stay you at the portal,The portal where I enter in,Let not guard—dogs with me grapple,Whil’st the grapes I’m gathering.’

—‘Mordomo! stay you at the portal,

The portal where I enter in,

Let not guard—dogs with me grapple,

Whil’st the grapes I’m gathering.’

The portress now to meet his wish,Exchange for what he gave doth bring;At the chamber of the CountessBehold there entereth the king.

The portress now to meet his wish,

Exchange for what he gave doth bring;

At the chamber of the Countess

Behold there entereth the king.

She bore a lamp both rich and massy,It was of silver, I could see.Nought but of silver or of goldIs in the house of Valderey.

She bore a lamp both rich and massy,

It was of silver, I could see.

Nought but of silver or of gold

Is in the house of Valderey.

The fresh green leaves are in the vineyard,The grapes in it are ripe and sweet:So beautiful—so warmly colour’d—Ah me, of them when shall I eat?

The fresh green leaves are in the vineyard,

The grapes in it are ripe and sweet:

So beautiful—so warmly colour’d—

Ah me, of them when shall I eat?

All in the chamber of the CountessGold was with silver suited well,It was the Heav’n of that Angel,No more hath my poor tongue to tell.

All in the chamber of the Countess

Gold was with silver suited well,

It was the Heav’n of that Angel,

No more hath my poor tongue to tell.

Rich silks were there of Millan,The towels were of Courtenay;The King he trembled—if from terrorOr from good faith, I cannot say.

Rich silks were there of Millan,

The towels were of Courtenay;

The King he trembled—if from terror

Or from good faith, I cannot say.

Green silk curtains hung before him,Still he ne’er essay’d to raise;The vision bright I may not sing,That daunted thus his baffled gaze.

Green silk curtains hung before him,

Still he ne’er essay’d to raise;

The vision bright I may not sing,

That daunted thus his baffled gaze.

It was a thing so passing lovely...What more to say I do not ween.Dainties other such as this,You may not see, nor have I seen.

It was a thing so passing lovely...

What more to say I do not ween.

Dainties other such as this,

You may not see, nor have I seen.

Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,Saw I there grapes ripe and sweet:So beautiful and so ripe are they—They are saying ‘come and eat.’

Fresh green vine leaves hath the vineyard,

Saw I there grapes ripe and sweet:

So beautiful and so ripe are they—

They are saying ‘come and eat.’

Slept she there so undisturb’dAs I in heav’n above shall sleep—Jesus! when I find thee there,If innocent thy law I keep.

Slept she there so undisturb’d

As I in heav’n above shall sleep—

Jesus! when I find thee there,

If innocent thy law I keep.

On his knees then all the nightGood did the King ill thought withstand;Gazing, wond’ring thus to see her,Without moving foot or hand.

On his knees then all the night

Good did the King ill thought withstand;

Gazing, wond’ring thus to see her,

Without moving foot or hand.

And thus he said —‘Oh God, my sire!Pardon what I ask’d before:This angel here so pure and brightIt is not I will injure her.’

And thus he said —‘Oh God, my sire!

Pardon what I ask’d before:

This angel here so pure and bright

It is not I will injure her.’

The vineyard hath fresh green leaves in it,Grapes found I in it ripe and sweet;But I fear to tamper with them...Ah! of them I will not eat.

The vineyard hath fresh green leaves in it,

Grapes found I in it ripe and sweet;

But I fear to tamper with them...

Ah! of them I will not eat.

Now came on the shining morrow,Then it was, as goes the tale,The Mordomo a whistle heard:—‘Jesus Lord, now me avail!’

Now came on the shining morrow,

Then it was, as goes the tale,

The Mordomo a whistle heard:

—‘Jesus Lord, now me avail!’

This was the appointed signalThe mode the Count was us’d to take—The king did not the curtains drawSaying: ‘I will not vintage make.’

This was the appointed signal

The mode the Count was us’d to take—

The king did not the curtains draw

Saying: ‘I will not vintage make.’

Beautiful green leaves hath the vineyard,In it I found grapes lovely sweet;But my conscience inward grieves me,Grapes like these I will not eat.

Beautiful green leaves hath the vineyard,

In it I found grapes lovely sweet;

But my conscience inward grieves me,

Grapes like these I will not eat.

Mordomo ran with rapid vigourIn order that the king may flee.—‘Alas a slipper I have lost.’—‘Take one of mine I give to thee.’

Mordomo ran with rapid vigour

In order that the king may flee.

—‘Alas a slipper I have lost.’

—‘Take one of mine I give to thee.’

They fled, but in another instantSince the whistle they did hear,Descends the Count from off the mountain.—‘If he shall catch us, woe and fear!’

They fled, but in another instant

Since the whistle they did hear,

Descends the Count from off the mountain.

—‘If he shall catch us, woe and fear!’

One fear barass’d the Mordomo,Other fear assail’d the King:Which of them had reason greater,Soon unto you will I sing.

One fear barass’d the Mordomo,

Other fear assail’d the King:

Which of them had reason greater,

Soon unto you will I sing.

Green leaves saw I in the vineyard,Grapes quite ripe and richly sweet;But, by his tender conscience guarded,Quoth the King:—‘I will not eat.’

Green leaves saw I in the vineyard,

Grapes quite ripe and richly sweet;

But, by his tender conscience guarded,

Quoth the King:—‘I will not eat.’

Seeketh now the Count his tower,The valiant Count of Valderey;He lit upon the broider’d slipper...How it chanc’d I cannot say.

Seeketh now the Count his tower,

The valiant Count of Valderey;

He lit upon the broider’d slipper...

How it chanc’d I cannot say.

To the chamber of the CountessGoes he... Will he strike the blow?Serenely sleeping doth he see her:—‘Jesus! I know not what to do.’

To the chamber of the Countess

Goes he... Will he strike the blow?

Serenely sleeping doth he see her:

—‘Jesus! I know not what to do.’

In disorder is the household...—‘God have me in his holy keep!Either witch must be this woman,Or this same slipper mock’d my sleep.’

In disorder is the household...

—‘God have me in his holy keep!

Either witch must be this woman,

Or this same slipper mock’d my sleep.’

‘The slipper which I have before me,The slipper it bespeaks no good:Who could think that she could slumberIn so pure and gentle mood.’

‘The slipper which I have before me,

The slipper it bespeaks no good:

Who could think that she could slumber

In so pure and gentle mood.’

Wild the doubts that rise within him:—‘Help me Heaven! with guiding light,Baffling madness louring roundForbids me see my path aright.

Wild the doubts that rise within him:

—‘Help me Heaven! with guiding light,

Baffling madness louring round

Forbids me see my path aright.

Oh! my vineyard so well guarded!The precious grapes which there I left...Where is the fruit on which I counted?Tell me of which I am bereft?’

Oh! my vineyard so well guarded!

The precious grapes which there I left...

Where is the fruit on which I counted?

Tell me of which I am bereft?’

Straight the Count himself imprison’dIn highest tower of Valderey:—‘Ne’er shall bread assuage my hunger,Ne’er shall wine my thirst allay.

Straight the Count himself imprison’d

In highest tower of Valderey:

—‘Ne’er shall bread assuage my hunger,

Ne’er shall wine my thirst allay.

Beard and hair grown rough and ragged,Care from me shall ne’er receive;Till the truth be plain before me,Ne’er will I this refuge leave.

Beard and hair grown rough and ragged,

Care from me shall ne’er receive;

Till the truth be plain before me,

Ne’er will I this refuge leave.

Oh! ye green leaves of the vineyardGrapes that I no more may taste!Quickly may ye pine and wither,Quickly pine like me and waste.’

Oh! ye green leaves of the vineyard

Grapes that I no more may taste!

Quickly may ye pine and wither,

Quickly pine like me and waste.’

Thrice the sun hath sunk and ris’n,Still groaning thus he lonely sate,While faithful Countess grieving utter’d:‘How shall I soothe his mournful state?’

Thrice the sun hath sunk and ris’n,

Still groaning thus he lonely sate,

While faithful Countess grieving utter’d:

‘How shall I soothe his mournful state?’

Whither may she flee for succour?Who shall aid and solace bring?Innocence may challenge pity...Where shall she went? Unto the King!

Whither may she flee for succour?

Who shall aid and solace bring?

Innocence may challenge pity...

Where shall she went? Unto the King!

—‘That I some remedy may find thee,Faithful Countess, quickly go:The secret of his sad affliction.Be’t mine or here or there to know.

—‘That I some remedy may find thee,

Faithful Countess, quickly go:

The secret of his sad affliction.

Be’t mine or here or there to know.

On leal word of CavalleiroTroth and faith I plight to thee,Pure you shall be found and spotless,Or I myself shall recreant be.’

On leal word of Cavalleiro

Troth and faith I plight to thee,

Pure you shall be found and spotless,

Or I myself shall recreant be.’

Oh! the green leaves of the Vine tree!Grapes I sought with eager haste!To the soul their beauty touch’ me,Bloom so pure I dar’d not taste.

Oh! the green leaves of the Vine tree!

Grapes I sought with eager haste!

To the soul their beauty touch’ me,

Bloom so pure I dar’d not taste.

Quickly thence the Countess hurried;The king, he did not tarry more.What they say I wish to hear,So will I listen at the door.

Quickly thence the Countess hurried;

The king, he did not tarry more.

What they say I wish to hear,

So will I listen at the door.

Hist!—A voice of heavenly sweetnessSteals upon his ravished ears—While this sad plaint the mourner sangMocking music of the spheres.

Hist!—A voice of heavenly sweetness

Steals upon his ravished ears—

While this sad plaint the mourner sang

Mocking music of the spheres.

—‘Once I was a Vine well guarded,Taught by tending Love to grow:Now I lack that fost’ring nurture...Why—I scarce dare ask to know.’

—‘Once I was a Vine well guarded,

Taught by tending Love to grow:

Now I lack that fost’ring nurture...

Why—I scarce dare ask to know.’

Then shone out the Royal goodness...Tears of pity dimm’d his eye:—‘Quick of the other side inform me,That the truth I may descry.’

Then shone out the Royal goodness...

Tears of pity dimm’d his eye:

—‘Quick of the other side inform me,

That the truth I may descry.’

—‘My fresh vineyard so well guarded,When I enter’d it again,Trace of plundering thief I noted...What he stole I ask in vain.’

—‘My fresh vineyard so well guarded,

When I enter’d it again,

Trace of plundering thief I noted...

What he stole I ask in vain.’

Ceased the Count o’erwhelm’d with sorrow,But then laughing said the King:(Whether at self or at the mournerAim’d that laugh, I cannot sing.)

Ceased the Count o’erwhelm’d with sorrow,

But then laughing said the King:

(Whether at self or at the mourner

Aim’d that laugh, I cannot sing.)

—’Twas I who did the vineyard enter,Of plundering thief I left the trace;Grapes I saw—but Heav’n so save me—Not a grape did I displace.’

—’Twas I who did the vineyard enter,

Of plundering thief I left the trace;

Grapes I saw—but Heav’n so save me—

Not a grape did I displace.’

A fracture was there in the portalThe slipper from his foot he tore:—‘Need’st thou proof? behold it here.’Its fellow from within he bore.

A fracture was there in the portal

The slipper from his foot he tore:

—‘Need’st thou proof? behold it here.’

Its fellow from within he bore.

Of the joy that followed afterLittle need I more impart,Glad the Count the truth admitted,And the King play’d the kingly part.

Of the joy that followed after

Little need I more impart,

Glad the Count the truth admitted,

And the King play’d the kingly part.

Fresh green leaves hath the vineyard,Richest grapes were those I saw;It was fear that kept them safely,Fear of God and of his law.

Fresh green leaves hath the vineyard,

Richest grapes were those I saw;

It was fear that kept them safely,

Fear of God and of his law.

Em continuação do appendice, aqui juncto egualmente, para illustração do romance IX d’este livro que leva por tituloREGINALDO[142], as duas licções castelhanas que d’elle apparecem agora na última recente edição doROMANCEROde Duran.

Na introducção áquelle romance disse eu que elle não apparecia nas collecções castelhanas, porque em nenhuma das anteriores a ésta de 1849-51 o tinha podido incontrar.

Essa parte do texto, assim como a nota correspondente[143]precisam pois d’esta correcção.

Levantóse GerineldoQue al rey dejara dormido:Fuese para la infantaDonde estaba en el castillo.—Abráisme, digo, señora,Abráisme, cuerpo garrido.—¿Quién sois vos, el caballero,Que llamais á mi postigo?—Gerineldo soy, señora,Vuestro tan querido amigo.—Tomárala por la manoEn un lecho la ha metido,Y besando y abrazandoGerineldo se ha dormido.Recordado habia el reyDe un sueño despavorido;Tres veces lo habia llamado,Ninguna le ha respondido.—Gerineldo, Gerineldo,Mi camarero polido,Si mi andas en traicion,Trátasme como á enemigo.O dormias con la infanta,O me has vendido el castillo.—Tomó la espada en la manoEn gran saña va encendido:Fuérase para la camaDonde á Gerineldo vido.El quisieralo matar;Mas crióle de chiquito.Sacara luego la espada,Entre entrambos la ha metido,Porque desque recordaseViese cómo era sentido.Recordado habia la infanta,Y la espada ha conocido.—Recordados, Gerineldo,Que ya érades sentido,Que la espada de mi padreYo me la he bien conocido[144].

Levantóse Gerineldo

Que al rey dejara dormido:

Fuese para la infanta

Donde estaba en el castillo.

—Abráisme, digo, señora,

Abráisme, cuerpo garrido.

—¿Quién sois vos, el caballero,

Que llamais á mi postigo?

—Gerineldo soy, señora,

Vuestro tan querido amigo.—

Tomárala por la mano

En un lecho la ha metido,

Y besando y abrazando

Gerineldo se ha dormido.

Recordado habia el rey

De un sueño despavorido;

Tres veces lo habia llamado,

Ninguna le ha respondido.

—Gerineldo, Gerineldo,

Mi camarero polido,

Si mi andas en traicion,

Trátasme como á enemigo.

O dormias con la infanta,

O me has vendido el castillo.—

Tomó la espada en la mano

En gran saña va encendido:

Fuérase para la cama

Donde á Gerineldo vido.

El quisieralo matar;

Mas crióle de chiquito.

Sacara luego la espada,

Entre entrambos la ha metido,

Porque desque recordase

Viese cómo era sentido.

Recordado habia la infanta,

Y la espada ha conocido.

—Recordados, Gerineldo,

Que ya érades sentido,

Que la espada de mi padre

Yo me la he bien conocido[144].

—Gerineldo, Gerineldo,El mi page mas querido,Quisiera hablarte esta nocheEn este jardim sombrio.—Como soy vuestro criado,Señora, os burlais conmigo.—No me burlo, Gerineldo,Que de verdad te lo digo.—¿A qué hora, mi señora,Comprir heis lo prometido?—Entre las doce y la una,Que el rey estará dormido.—Tres vueltas da á su palacioY otras tantas al castillo;El calzado se quitóY del buen rey no es sentido:Y viendo que todos duermenDo posa la infanta ha ido.La infanta que oyera pasosDesta manera le dijo:—¿Quién a mi estancia se atreve?Quién á tanto se ha atrevido?—No vos turbeis, mi señora,Yo soy vuestro dulce amigo,Que acudo a vuestro mandadoHumilde y favorecido.—Enilda le ase la manoSin mas celar su cariño;Cuidando que era su esposoEn el lecho se han metido,Y se hacen dulces halagosComo mujer y marido.Tantas caricias se hacen,Y con tanto fuego vivo,Que al cansacio se rindieronY al fin quedaron dormidos.El alba salia apénasA dar luz a campo amigo,Quando el rey quiere vestirse,Mas no encuentra sus vestidos:—Que llamen á GerineldoEl mi buen page querido.—Unos dicen:—No está en casa.—Otros dicen:—No lo he visto.—Salta el buen rey de su lechoY vistióse de proviso,Receloso de algun malQue puede haberle venido,Al cuarto de Enilda entrara,Y en su lecho halla dormidosÁ su hija y á su pajeEn estrecho abrazo unidos.Pasmado quedó y paradoEl buen rey muy pensativo:Pensándose qué haráContra los dos atrevidos.—¿Mataré yo á Gerineldo,Al que cual hijo he querido?¡Si yo mataré la infantaMi reino tengo perdido!—En tal estrecho el buen rey,Para que fuese testigo,Puso la espada por medioEntre los dos atrevidos.Hecho esto, se retiraDel jardin á un bosquecillo.Enilda al despertarse,Notando que estaba el filoDe la espada entre los dos,Dijo asustada á su amigo:—Levántate, Gerineldo,Levántate, dueño mio,Que del rey la fiera espadaEntre los dos ha dormido.——¿Adónde iré, mi señora?¿Adónde me iré, Dios mio?¿Quién me librará de muerte,De muerte que he merecido?No te asustes, Gerineldo,Que siempre estaré contigo:Márchate por los jardinesQue luego al punto te sigo.—Luego obedece á la infanta,Haciendo cuanto le ha dicho:Pero el rey, que está en acecho,Se la hace encontradizo:—¿Donde vas, buen Gerineldo?¿Como estás tan sin sentido?—Paseaba estos jardinesPara ver se han florecido,Y vi que una fresca rosaEl calor ha deslucido.——Miéntes, miéntes, Gerineldo,Que con Enilda has dormido.—Estando en esto el Sultan,Un gran pliego ha recebido:Abrelo luego, y al puntoTodo el color ha perdido.—Que prendan á Gerineldo:Que no salga del castillo.—En esto la hermosa EnildaCuidosa llega á aquel sitio.De lo que pasa informada,Y conociendo el peligro,Sin esperar á que torneEl buen rey enfurecido,Salta las tapias lijeraEn pos de su amor querido.Huyendo se va á TartariaCon su amante y fiel amigo,Que en un brioso caballoLa atendia en el egido.Alli, ántes de casarse,Recibe Enilda el bautismo,Y las joias que llevaEn dos cajas de oro finoUna vida regaladaA su amante han prometido[145].

—Gerineldo, Gerineldo,

El mi page mas querido,

Quisiera hablarte esta noche

En este jardim sombrio.

—Como soy vuestro criado,

Señora, os burlais conmigo.

—No me burlo, Gerineldo,

Que de verdad te lo digo.

—¿A qué hora, mi señora,

Comprir heis lo prometido?

—Entre las doce y la una,

Que el rey estará dormido.—

Tres vueltas da á su palacio

Y otras tantas al castillo;

El calzado se quitó

Y del buen rey no es sentido:

Y viendo que todos duermen

Do posa la infanta ha ido.

La infanta que oyera pasos

Desta manera le dijo:

—¿Quién a mi estancia se atreve?

Quién á tanto se ha atrevido?

—No vos turbeis, mi señora,

Yo soy vuestro dulce amigo,

Que acudo a vuestro mandado

Humilde y favorecido.—

Enilda le ase la mano

Sin mas celar su cariño;

Cuidando que era su esposo

En el lecho se han metido,

Y se hacen dulces halagos

Como mujer y marido.

Tantas caricias se hacen,

Y con tanto fuego vivo,

Que al cansacio se rindieron

Y al fin quedaron dormidos.

El alba salia apénas

A dar luz a campo amigo,

Quando el rey quiere vestirse,

Mas no encuentra sus vestidos:

—Que llamen á Gerineldo

El mi buen page querido.—

Unos dicen:—No está en casa.—

Otros dicen:—No lo he visto.—

Salta el buen rey de su lecho

Y vistióse de proviso,

Receloso de algun mal

Que puede haberle venido,

Al cuarto de Enilda entrara,

Y en su lecho halla dormidos

Á su hija y á su paje

En estrecho abrazo unidos.

Pasmado quedó y parado

El buen rey muy pensativo:

Pensándose qué hará

Contra los dos atrevidos.

—¿Mataré yo á Gerineldo,

Al que cual hijo he querido?

¡Si yo mataré la infanta

Mi reino tengo perdido!—

En tal estrecho el buen rey,

Para que fuese testigo,

Puso la espada por medio

Entre los dos atrevidos.

Hecho esto, se retira

Del jardin á un bosquecillo.

Enilda al despertarse,

Notando que estaba el filo

De la espada entre los dos,

Dijo asustada á su amigo:

—Levántate, Gerineldo,

Levántate, dueño mio,

Que del rey la fiera espada

Entre los dos ha dormido.—

—¿Adónde iré, mi señora?

¿Adónde me iré, Dios mio?

¿Quién me librará de muerte,

De muerte que he merecido?

No te asustes, Gerineldo,

Que siempre estaré contigo:

Márchate por los jardines

Que luego al punto te sigo.—

Luego obedece á la infanta,

Haciendo cuanto le ha dicho:

Pero el rey, que está en acecho,

Se la hace encontradizo:

—¿Donde vas, buen Gerineldo?

¿Como estás tan sin sentido?

—Paseaba estos jardines

Para ver se han florecido,

Y vi que una fresca rosa

El calor ha deslucido.—

—Miéntes, miéntes, Gerineldo,

Que con Enilda has dormido.—

Estando en esto el Sultan,

Un gran pliego ha recebido:

Abrelo luego, y al punto

Todo el color ha perdido.

—Que prendan á Gerineldo:

Que no salga del castillo.—

En esto la hermosa Enilda

Cuidosa llega á aquel sitio.

De lo que pasa informada,

Y conociendo el peligro,

Sin esperar á que torne

El buen rey enfurecido,

Salta las tapias lijera

En pos de su amor querido.

Huyendo se va á Tartaria

Con su amante y fiel amigo,

Que en un brioso caballo

La atendia en el egido.

Alli, ántes de casarse,

Recibe Enilda el bautismo,

Y las joias que lleva

En dos cajas de oro fino

Una vida regalada

A su amante han prometido[145].

Back to Index Next