University of Virginia Library

Ere yet the bird of Dawn
In neighbouring farm its earliest clarion rang
The Cid had mounted; reached ere nones that haunt
Wherein his wife had taken sanctuary,
San Pedro de Cardena. At the gate
He blew his battle-horn. They knew it well!
Rushed forth Ximena and her ladies first:
O what a weeping was there at his feet!
Then followed many a monk with large slow eyes:
The abbot long had wished to see the Cid;
And now rejoiced: the feast was great that day
And great the poor man's share; and chimed the bells
So loudly that the King, in Burgos throned,
Frowned but spake nought. Next day two hundred knights
Flocked to the Cid's white standard. On the third,
Ere shone its sunrise, by that Abbey's gate
My Cid for blessing knelt, then spake: ‘Lord Abbot,
Be careful of my wife, Donna Ximena,
For princelier lady stands not on this earth
Of stouter courage or of sweeter ways:
Likewise breed up my babes in holy life;
Thy convent shall not lack, and if I die
God is my banker and will pay my debts.’
Next, to her lord Ximena with slow steps
Made way, and knelt; and weeping thus she spake:
‘Sundered ere death! I knew not that could be!’
Their parting seemed like parting soul and body.
Last came two ladies with his daughters twain.
He took them in his arms: his tears fell on them
Because they wept not but bewildered smiled;
And thus he spake: ‘Please God, with Mary's prayers,
I yet shall give these little maidens mine
With mine own hand to husbands worthy of them.’
He said; and shook his rein, nor once looked back;
And the rising sun shone bright on many a face
Tear-wet in that dim porch.