Assur Gonzales, a fierce and hardy knight,

He rode at Munio Gustioz with all his force and might:

He struck the shield and pierced it through, but the point came wide,

It passed by Munio Gustioz, betwixt his arm and side:

Sternly, like a practised knight, Munio met him there.

His lance he levell'd steadfastly, and through the shield him bare;
He bore the point into his breast, a little beside the heart;
It took him through the body, but in no mortal part;
The shaft stood out behind his back a cloth-yard and more;
The pennon and the point were dripping down with gore.
Munio still clench'd his spear, as he pass'd he forced it round,
He wrench'd him from the saddle, and cast him to the ground.
His horse sprung forward with the spur, he pluck'd the spear

away,

He wheel'd and came again to pierce him where he lay.

Firiense en los escudos unos tan grandes colpes:

Asur Gonzalez, furzudo è de valor,

Firió en el escudo a Don Muño Gustioz.

Tras el escudo falsóge la guarnizon;

En vacio fue la lanza, ca en carne nol' tomó.
Este colpe fecho, otro diò Muño Gustioz,

Tras el escudo falsóge la guarnizon.

Por medio de la bloca del escudo quebrantó.

Nol' pudo guarir, falsóge la guarnizon.

Apart' le prisó, que non cabel corazon.

Metiòl' por la carne adentro la lanza con el pendon.

De la otra part una braza gela echó :

Con el diò una tuerta, de la siella lo encamó,

Al tirar de la lanza en tierra lo cchó.

Bermeio salió el astil, è la lanza è el pendon.
Todos se cuedan que ferido es de muert.
La lanza recombrò è sobrél se paró.

156

LITERATURE OF THE SPANIARDS.

Then cried Gonzalo Asurez, "For God's sake spare my son! "The other two have yielded, the field is fought and won."

The heralds and king Alfonso proclaim that the champions of the Cid have conquered. The latter, however, are conveyed during the night from the lands of Carion, and return to their leader, lest the vassals of the Infants should avenge the discomfiture of their lords.

The two last verses of this poem inform us that the Cid died on the Day of Pentecost, without stating the year or the mode of his death. Commentators have supposed that it was on the 29th of May, 1099; and Muller has conjectured that it was in the month of July, in the same year. In examining, in the next chapter, the romances or ballads of the Cid, we shall meet with some circumstances relative to the death of the Spanish hero.

Dixo Gonzalo Asurez, nol' firgades por Dios.
Venzudo es el campo quando esto se acabó.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Spanish Poetry of the Thirteenth Century.-Romances
of the Cid.

THE Cid has already occupied much of our time, nor can we yet dismiss him. This hero, who was more instrumental than even the princes whom he served, in founding the monarchy of Castile, and who, during the course of his long life, led the conquering arms of his sovereign over nearly a quarter of Spain, is intimately connected with all our ideas of the glory, the love, and the chivalry of the Spanish nation. In the foreground of their history and of their poetry, the Cid stands conspicuous, while the renown of his name fills the age in which he lived. So dear, indeed, is his memory to the Spaniards, that the form of their most sacred and irrevocable adjuration is derived from his name; affe' de Rodrigo, by the faith of Rodrigo, says the Spaniard, who would strengthen his promise by recalling the ancient loyalty of this hero.

It is said that the original Chronicle of the Cid was written in Arabic a few years after his death, by two of his pages, who were Musulmans, and that

from this chronicle, the poem of which we have given some extracts was taken, as well as the romances which we are about to notice, and many of the most admired tragedies on the same subject in the Spanish drama. The poem, though a most Christian performance, bears some traces of its Arabic origin. The style in which the Divinity is spoken of, and the epithets which are applied to him, bear traces of a Moorish, rather than of a Catholic pen. He is called the Father of Spirits, the Divine Creator, and other names, which, as they are sufficiently accordant with Christian notions, the poet has preserved, although they betray their Musulman origin. This poem, which is anterior by a hundred and fifty years to the immortal composition of Dante, bears evident marks of its venerable antiquity. It is without pretension and without art, but full of the finest nature, and gives an excellent idea of the people of that age, so different from those of our own. We live amongst them, as it were, and our minds are the more completely captivated, because we know that the author had no design to paint a brilliant picture. Just as he found them, the poet has exposed them to our view, without the least desire to make an exhibition of them. The incidents which strike us, bore no extraordinary character in his eyes. There was to him no distinction between the manners of his heroes and of his readers, and the simplicity

of the representation, which supplies the place of talent, produces a more powerful effect.

With regard to the versification, I scarcely know any production more completely barbarous. Many of the lines are Alexandrines, that is, lines of fourteen syllables, with a cæsura on the sixth, which is accentuated; but many others consist of fifteen, or even eighteen syllables, so that the author seems to have arranged his expressions without ever attempting to adapt them to his metre. Many of the lines are doubtless altered by transcribers, but more have been left unfinished by the poet himself.

The rhyme alone enables the reader to discover that the composition is in verse, though even that is so barbarous, that sometimes we have considerable difficulty in ascertaining its existence. The Spaniards distinguish their rhymes into consonant and assonant rhymes. The latter, as we have formerly explained them, consist in the repetition of the same vowel. When the Spaniards had become more familiar with poetical composition, and had laid down certain rules of art, the assonant rhymes became as regular as the consonant. If the rhyme was not complete, being only framed from the vowels of the two last syllables, it was prolonged, and all the second verses of the romance were terminated by the same assonant rhymes. In the poem of the Cid, the assonants are very incomplete, and fail to satisfy