THE CID'S RISING

The field and the river grew darkly red,
As the kings and leaders of Afric fled.

There was work for the men of the Cid that day!
They were weary at eve, when they ceased to slay,
As reapers whose task is done.

The kings and the leaders of Afric fled;
The sails of their galleys in haste were spread;
But the sea had its share of the Paynim slain,
And the bow of the Desert was broke in Spain.
-So the Cid to his grave passed on!

259

THE CID'S RISING

[SEE Southey's Chronicle of the Cid, p. 352]

'Twas the deep mid-watch of the silent night,
And Leon in slumber lay,

When a sound went forth in rushing might,
Like an army on its way!

In the stillness of the hour

When the dreams of sleep have power,
And men forget the day.

Through the dark and lonely streets it went,
Till the slumberers woke in dread ;-

The sound of a passing armament,

With the charger's stony tread.
There was heard no trumpet's peal,
But the heavy tramp of steel,

As a host's to combat led.

Through the dark and lonely streets it passed,
And the hollow pavement rang,

And the towers, as with a sweeping blast,
Rocked to the stormy clang!

But the march of the viewless train
Went on to a royal fane,

Where a priest his night-hymn sang.

There was knocking that shook the marble floor,
And a voice at the gate, which said-
"That the Cid Ruy Diez, the Campeador,
Was there in his arms arrayed;

And that with him, from the tomb,
Had the Count Gonzalez come

With a host, uprisen to aid.

"And they came for the buried king that lay
At rest in that ancient fane;
For he must be armed on the battle-day,
With them to deliver Spain !"

Then the march went sounding on,

And the Moors by noontide sun

Were dust on Tolosa's plain.

GREEK SONGS

THE STORM OF DELPHI

[SEE Mitford's Greece]

FAR through the Delphian shades
An Eastern trumpet rung!

And the startled eagle rushed on high,
With a sounding flight through the fiery sky;
And banners, o'er the shadowy glades,
To the sweeping winds were flung.

Banners with deep-red gold

All waving as a flame,

And a fitful glance from the bright spear-head On the dim wood-paths of the mountain shed, And a peal of Asia's war-notes told

That in arms the Persian came.

He came with starry gems

On his quiver and his crest;

With starry gems, at whose heart the day

Of the cloudless Orient burning lay,

And they cast a gleam on the laurel- stems,

As onward his thousands pressed.

But a gloom fell o'er their way,

And a heavy moan went by!

A moan, yet not like the wind's low swell, When its voice grows wild amidst cave and dell, But a mortal murmur of dismay,

Or a warrior's dying sigh!

A gloom fell on their way!

'Twas not the shadow cast

By the dark pine-boughs, as they crossed the blue
Of the Grecian heavens with their solemn hue;
The air was filled with a mightier sway -
But on the spearmen passed!

And hollow to their tread

Came the echoes of the ground;

And banners drooped, as with dews o'erborne,
And the wailing blast of the battle-horn
Had an altered cadence, dull and dead,
Of strange foreboding sound.

But they blew a louder strain,

When the steep defiles were passed!
And afar the crowned Parnassus rose,

To shine through heaven with his radiant snows,
And in golden light the Delphian fane
Before them stood at last!

In golden light it stood,

Midst the laurels gleaming lone;

For the Sun-god yet, with a lovely smile,
O'er its graceful pillars looked awhile,

Though the stormy shade on cliff and wood

Grew deep round its mountain-throne.

THE STORM OF DELPHI

263

And the Persians gave a shout!

But the marble walls replied

With a clash of steel and a sullen roar
Like heavy wheels on the ocean-shore,
And a savage trumpet's note pealed out,
Till their hearts for terror died!

On the armour of the god

Then a viewless hand was laid;

There were helm and spear, with a clanging din,
And corslet brought from the shrine within,
From the inmost shrine of the dread abode,
And before its front arrayed.

And a sudden silence fell

Through the dim and loaded air!

On the wild-bird's wing and the myrtle spray,
And the very founts in their silvery way:
With a weight of sleep came down the spell,
Till man grew breathless there.

But the pause was broken soon!
"Twas not by song or lyre;

For the Delphian maids had left their bowers,
And the hearths were lone in the city's towers,
But there burst a sound through the misty noon—
That battle-noon of fire!

It burst from earth and heaven!
It rolled from crag and cloud!

For a moment on the mountain-blast
With a thousand stormy voices passed;

And the purple gloom of the sky was riven,

When the thunder pealed aloud.