University of Virginia Library

Then spake a knight
Revered by all, Don Incar of Simancas
With strenuous face, keen eyes, and hectic hand:
A stripling I, when first that war began;
Rapturous it was as hunting of the stag
When blares the horn from echoing cliff and wood,
And deer-like bound the coursers. Sport began
Nigh to Castregon; next, like wind it rushed
To Fita, Guadalgara, and Alcala,
Thence to Heneres, and Torancio's plain,
And the olive-shaded gorge of Bobierca.
We crossed its dark-bright stream. A Moorish maid
Sold us red apples, and from wells snow-cold
Drew water for our mules. Our later deeds
Fade from my mind. We captured castles twelve
And raised the Cross upon them. Once dim mist
Lifted at morn shewed Moors uncounted nigh;
We stood in doubt. Our standard-bearer cried;
‘Sustain your standard, sirs; or if it please you,
Consign it to the Moors!’ He galloped on;
The dusky hordes closed round him. Torrent-like
We dashed upon them! Soon the morning shone
Through that black mass. The standard saved the host,
And not the host the standard. Likewise this
Clings to my memory trivial as it seems:
At Imbra, when the Moors bewailed their kine
Snatched from its golden mead, my Cid replied:
‘God save you, sirs! My King and I are foes.
In exile gentlemen must live on spoil.
What! would you set us spinning flax or wool?
Not kine alone, but all your vales and plains
Are ours by ancient right! To Afric back!
This land is Spain—our Spain!’