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This slight ballad is founded on a very striking passage in the Chronicle of the Cid, to the admirable translation of which, by Mr Southey, I would direct the attention of the English reader, as a repertory of chivalrous and romantic incident, singularly at antipodes to the prosaic utilitarianism of our own time. Its pervading idea—that of the patriotic retaining their love of country even beyond death, and a zeal for its rescue from oppression and danger—is a high and ennobling one; and is so natural as to have found a place in the traditional superstitions of almost every people, from the Calmuc Tartar to the Scots and Swiss. The three founders of the Helvetic Confederacy are thought to sleep in a cavern near the lake of Lucerne; and the herdsmen call them the Three Tells. They say that they lie there in their antique garb, in quiet slumber; and, when Switzerland is in her utmost need, that they will awaken and reconquer its liberties. Mrs Hemans' fine lyric, “The Cavern of the Three Tells,” is founded on this legend. The very spirited French ballad of “The Drunomer,” or “Napoleon's Midnight Review,” of which we have several good translations, originates in a similar sentiment; as also one of the stanzas in Campbell's matchless “Mariners of England”—

Ferrando the Great was buried in the Royal Monastery of St Isidro, at Leon. The time when of this spiritual belligerence was during the reign of Queen Alphonso, on the night before the decisive battle of the Navas de Tolosa; of which it is chronicled that sixty thousand of the Mahometans were then and there slain.

The badge of Pelayo was an Oaken Cross, which he is said to have always had carried in the van of his army, when he led it on to battle.

The surname of Campeador, applied to the Cid Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, has been a stumbling-block to antiquarians. I am inclined to adopt the solution of Verstegan, who derives it from the word Cemp or Kemp, “properly one that fighteth hand to hand, whereunto the name in Teutonic of Kemp fight accordeth, and in French of Combat.” From a note at p. 5 of Southey's Introduction to The Chronicle of the Cid, that distinguished scholar would seem to infer, from some peculiar Spanish expression it contains, that it is a composition even more ancient than the General Chronicles of Spain, known to have been written before 1384. The legends of the Cid are perhaps, beyond all others in Spain—as those of the Wallace and Bruce in Scotland—the most favourite and frequent subject of the old minstrels of that country; and such is their spirit-stirring character that the English reader can never tire of him in the congenially glowing pages of Southey, Frere, and Lockhart.

“The story of Fernan Gonzalez,” writes Mr Lockhart, “is detailed in the Chronica Antiqua de España with so many romantic circumstances, that certain modern critics have been inclined to consider it as entirely fabulous. Of the main parts recorded there seems, however, no good reason to doubt. . . . . He lived at the beginning of the tenth century. It was under his rule, according to the Chronicles, that Castile first became an independent Christian state; and it was by his exertions that the first foundations were laid of that system of warfare by which the Moorish power in Spain was ultimately overthrown. . . . . There is, as might be expected, a whole body of old ballads concerning the adventures of Fernan Gonzalez.”—Ancient Spanish Ballads, p. 28, 29.