Poems (Ford)/Bernardo del Carpio
BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.[1]
At last the foe was vanquished, The warrior turned his rein,To place his hard-won laurels Upon the brow of Spain.
But soon a fearful story Of wrong aroused his ire;His soul was wrung with anguish, His heart seemed changed to fire.
Swift sped his fleet war-charger Till at the palace door,And soon his clanging sabre Rang on the marble floor.
The king, who 'mongst his nobles Discussed the victory won,Half rose to meet the hero Known as his warrior son.
Bernardo waved him backward With gesture of command,And cried, "O king, I can not In friendship touch thy hand.
"I call thee sire no longer— Ah, why did I not seeThat thy cold heart had never A father's love for me.
"On many a field of battle I for thy rights have stood,And, while with my brave legions For thee I shed my blood,—
"My own true, noble father In thy cold dungeon lay:If blood you ask, mine surely Has washed his fault away."
Then spoke the crafty monarch, In accents soft and bland:"Bernardo, thou art honored As champion of our land.
"The voice of Spain, in triumph, Recounts thy vict'ries won;'T were sad to keep a father From such a noble son.
"Give up, then, as a ransom, Thy castle strong to me;My royal word I pledge thee, Thy father thou shalt see."
"Take all I own, my sovereign, But break my father's chains;Wealth, power, renown, are worthless While captive he remains.
"My father, oh! what anguish Must have been his for years,While stories of my conquests Were ringing in his ears.
"How base he must have pictured The son who bled for thee,Whose arm was never lifted To set his father free.
"Oh, haste, to ope his dungeon, That I may hear his voice,And, after years of sorrow, Bid him at last rejoice."
Time passed, and still in fetters The Count Saldana lay;The wily king his promise Renewed from day to day.
At last he said, "Bernardo, Behold where o'er the plainThy father rides, a free man, 'Mid yonder glittering train."
Borne on their arrowy coursers, Whose hoofs scarce touched the ground,They reached the spot where slowly The long procession wound.
Low bent the youthful warrior, His father's hand to clasp,But, icy-cold and pulseless, It fell from out his grasp.
With nameless dread he shuddered, And quick the vizor raised,And on the stony visage In breathless horror gazed.
The silv'ry locks encirled A brow as cold as stone;The mute lips ne'er would greet him— His father's soul had flown.
He bent his throbbing forehead Upon his nerveless hand,His burning tears fast falling, Like rain, upon the sand.
Stern warriors viewed with sorrow A woe so wild and deep,Amazed to see the bravest Of Spain's proud chieftains weep.
"My father, oh, my father! My life's fond hope has fled;I came with joy to meet thee; I see thee cold and dead!
"Come back, O soul that prison Again can never hold,And learn how that heart loved thee That seemed so base and cold.
"Alas! too late I see thee; In vain, in vain I call—A Heavenly King has broken At last thy spirit's thrall!"
Then, turning to Alfonso, He cried, "Base monarch, say,Why hast thou brought me hither To greet this lifeless clay?
"Where is the brave young noble Thou didst in prison fling,Because he loved and wedded The sister of a king?
"Where is the soul that kindled That form with God's warm breath?My all was never bartered For this cold guest of Death!
"A king whose soul is perjured Should cease to wear the crown;The false and cruel-hearted Should fling the sceptre down!"
The monarch paled in anger, And shouted to his trainTo seize the sword that often Turned war's red tide for Spain.
The cavaliers stood silent, Awed by their hero's grief,Their dauntless hearts divided Between their king and chief.
And soon they heard, defiant, The champion's proud tones ring:"Bernardo's sword no longer Is subject to a king.
"And though thou hast by falsehood Won Carpio's castle strong,I still have the free mountains, The right to war with wrong.
"False-hearted king, remember, Long as this arm is free,I wage a ceaseless warfare Against thy cause and thee!"
- ↑ This renowned Champion of the Ninth Century was the son of the Count Saldana, who had secretly married the sister of Alfonso, King of Austurias. The angry King doomed the Count to life-long imprisonment, and brought up the young Bernardo as his own son. The Champion at last, on his victorious return from battle, learns who his real father is, and demands his release.