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 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
THE CID.
FROM FROISSART.
Come, sword of Mudara, the deadly and true!
Rodrigo de Lara thy searching blade knew;
And ruthless like his is the heart thou shalt cleave
Ere shines o'er yon mountain the starlight at eve.
Cold and firm as thy steel be my soul for the fray,
For the caitiff of Gormaz makes light of his prey;
And brands by the thousand flash forth at his call
From the hills of Asturia; yet shall he fall!
For never till now had our scutcheon a stain,
And the house of Lair Calvo no yielding shall deign!
Rodrigo de Lara thy searching blade knew;
And ruthless like his is the heart thou shalt cleave
Ere shines o'er yon mountain the starlight at eve.
Cold and firm as thy steel be my soul for the fray,
For the caitiff of Gormaz makes light of his prey;
And brands by the thousand flash forth at his call
From the hills of Asturia; yet shall he fall!
For never till now had our scutcheon a stain,
And the house of Lair Calvo no yielding shall deign!
79
Rest tranquil, my father! the deed he shall rue;
Thy boy has a spirit to dare and to do.
He may smile at my youth, at thy age he could sneer;
But thy honour—thy life—have their champion here.
On his side are craft and the courtier's might;
On mine, O my father, the truth and the right;
And glory go with me, or shame be my meed,
As I, in this contest, shall fail or succeed.
Thy boy has a spirit to dare and to do.
He may smile at my youth, at thy age he could sneer;
But thy honour—thy life—have their champion here.
On his side are craft and the courtier's might;
On mine, O my father, the truth and the right;
And glory go with me, or shame be my meed,
As I, in this contest, shall fail or succeed.
Though feeble my frame be, my courage is strong,
And God will be by me in righting thy wrong.
Come, sword of Mudara, best servant at need;
Like the homicide Lara, Lorano shall bleed!
Let us fly to avenge in his life-blood his guilt!
If we fail, in mine own be thou sheathed to the hilt.
For I swear by yon sun, ere it sink to the sea,
It shall rise but on one—but on him or on me.
And God will be by me in righting thy wrong.
Come, sword of Mudara, best servant at need;
Like the homicide Lara, Lorano shall bleed!
Let us fly to avenge in his life-blood his guilt!
If we fail, in mine own be thou sheathed to the hilt.
For I swear by yon sun, ere it sink to the sea,
It shall rise but on one—but on him or on me.
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |