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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
August's sun
Westering had tinged the castle hall with red:
There sat Diego at the supper-board
But eating not. A horse's foot was heard:
In rushed, all glowing like that sun, the boy:
He knelt; then rising, laughed. Aloud he cried,
‘Father, your fare hath scanty been of late
As spider's when long frosts have frozen the flies:
Haply this herb may sharpen appetite!’
His mantle fell: he lifted by the locks
The unjust Aggressor's head. Diego rose:
First with raised eyes he tendered thanks to Heaven;
Then added: ‘Son, my sentence ever stood,
The hand that battles best is hand to rule:
Henceforth live thou sole master in this house;’
He pointed, and the seneschal kneeling laid
The castle's keys before the young man's feet.
Then clamour rose, ‘O'er yon portcullis fix
That traitor's head, that all may gaze upon it
And hate it as a true man knows to hate!’
Not thus Rodrigo willed He sent that head
To Gormaz with a stately retinue—
Ten knights, and priests entoning ‘Miserere.’
This solaced Gomez’ child. Then rose that saying,
‘He strikes from love, not hate.’
Westering had tinged the castle hall with red:
There sat Diego at the supper-board
But eating not. A horse's foot was heard:
In rushed, all glowing like that sun, the boy:
He knelt; then rising, laughed. Aloud he cried,
‘Father, your fare hath scanty been of late
As spider's when long frosts have frozen the flies:
Haply this herb may sharpen appetite!’
His mantle fell: he lifted by the locks
The unjust Aggressor's head. Diego rose:
First with raised eyes he tendered thanks to Heaven;
Then added: ‘Son, my sentence ever stood,
The hand that battles best is hand to rule:
Henceforth live thou sole master in this house;’
He pointed, and the seneschal kneeling laid
The castle's keys before the young man's feet.
Then clamour rose, ‘O'er yon portcullis fix
That traitor's head, that all may gaze upon it
And hate it as a true man knows to hate!’
Not thus Rodrigo willed He sent that head
To Gormaz with a stately retinue—
Ten knights, and priests entoning ‘Miserere.’
This solaced Gomez’ child. Then rose that saying,
‘He strikes from love, not hate.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |