Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and Holland: Vols. XIV–XV. 1876–79.
The Lord of Butrago
By Spanish Ballad“Y
His limbs are torn, his breast is gored, on his eye the film is thick;
Mount, mount on mine, O, mount apace, I pray thee mount and fly!
Or in my arms I ’ll lift your Grace,—their trampling hoofs are nigh.
But only lay a hand before, and I ’ll lift you to your seat:
Mount, Juan, for they gather fast,—I hear their coming cry;
Mount, mount, and ride for jeopardy—I ’ll save you though I die!
I ’ll kiss the foam from off thy mouth,—thy master dear I am.
Mount, Juan, mount, whate’er betide, away the bridle fling,
And plunge the rowels in his side.—My horse shall save my King!
And joyfully their blood shall spring, so be it thine secures:
If I should fly, and thou, my King, be found among the dead,
How could I stand ’mong gentlemen, such scorn on my gray head?
And say—there ’s one that ran away when our good lords were slain,—
I leave Diego in your care,—you ’ll fill his father’s place:
Strike, strike the spur, and never spare,—God’s blessing on your Grace!”
And turned him to the coming host in steadfastness and glee;
He flung himself among them, as they came down the hill;
He died, God wot! but not before his sword had drunk its fill.