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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
Sir Incar next;
Your boasters see not far! Fortune ere long
On King Alphonso cast a glance oblique,
For vassals weak and meek grew strong and haughty;
And when huge tracts were flooded now, now parched,
Men cried ‘our King is bad.’ That King sent gifts
Suing the Cid's return. The Cid replied:
‘To others gifts! for me my lands suffice.
My King commands my sword; my terms are these:
“To each hidalgo thirty days, not nine,
Shall stand conceded ere his banishment,
And courts beside wherein to plead his cause.
Next, charters old shall have their reverence old
As though their seals were red with martyrs' blood.
Lastly the King shall nowhere levy tax
Warring on law. Such tax is royal treason:
Thus wronged, the land is free to rise in arms.”’
Long time the King demurred; then frowned consent;
And there was peace thenceforth. That day arose
This saying: ‘Happy exile he that home
Returning to his country, bring her gifts.
His rest shall be in Heaven.’
Your boasters see not far! Fortune ere long
On King Alphonso cast a glance oblique,
For vassals weak and meek grew strong and haughty;
265
Men cried ‘our King is bad.’ That King sent gifts
Suing the Cid's return. The Cid replied:
‘To others gifts! for me my lands suffice.
My King commands my sword; my terms are these:
“To each hidalgo thirty days, not nine,
Shall stand conceded ere his banishment,
And courts beside wherein to plead his cause.
Next, charters old shall have their reverence old
As though their seals were red with martyrs' blood.
Lastly the King shall nowhere levy tax
Warring on law. Such tax is royal treason:
Thus wronged, the land is free to rise in arms.”’
Long time the King demurred; then frowned consent;
And there was peace thenceforth. That day arose
This saying: ‘Happy exile he that home
Returning to his country, bring her gifts.
His rest shall be in Heaven.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |