National Epics by Kate Milner Rabb

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And Khosru was so proud of Buzarchamahar,
Thou mightest say that he was looking Fortune in the face.
He was gladdened at his heart, and loaded him with caresses,
And ordered him a more than ordinary dress of honor,
And commanded him to be given a royal cup
Filled to the brim with princely jewels,
And a quantity of money, and a charger and a saddle,
And dismissed him from the Presence overwhelmed with praises.
_Robinson's Translation._

ZAL AND RUDABEH.

"Zal, recovered from the care of the Simurgh and arrived at manhood, is
sent to govern the frontier province of Zabul; the adjoining province of
Kabul, though tributary to the Persian emperor, being governed by its own
king, called Mihrab. This episode commences with a visit which Mihrab pays
to Zal, who receives him with distinguished honor, entertains him at a
sumptuous banquet, and they separate with mutual respect."

Then a chief of the great ones around him
Said: "O thou, the hero of the world,
This Mihrab hath a daughter behind the veil,
Whose face is more resplendent than the sun;
From head to foot pure as ivory,
With a cheek like the spring, and in stature like the teak-tree.
Upon her silver shoulders descend two musky tresses,
Which, like nooses, fetter the captive;
Her lip is like the pomegranate, and her cheek like its flower;
Her eyes resemble the narcissus in the garden;
Her eyelashes have borrowed the blackness of the raven;
Her eyebrows are arched like a fringed bow.
Wouldst thou behold the mild radiance of the moon? Look upon her
countenance!
Wouldst thou inhale delightful odors? She is all fragrance!
She is altogether a paradise of sweets,
Decked with all grace, all music, all thou canst desire!
She would be fitting for thee, O warrior of the world;
She is as the heavens above to such as we are."

When Zal heard this description,
His love leaped to the lovely maiden:
His heart boiled over with the heat of passion,
So that understanding and rest departed from him.
Night came, but he sat groaning, and buried in thought,
And a prey to sorrow for the not-yet-seen.

_On returning from a second visit, Mihrab describes Zal to his wife and
his daughter Rudabeh._

"O beautiful silver-bosomed cypress,
In the wide world not one of the heroes
Will come up to the measure of Zal!
In the pictured palace men will never behold the image
Of a warrior so strong, or so firm in the saddle.
He hath the heart of a lion, the power of an elephant,
And the strength of his arm is as the rush of the Nile.
When he sitteth on the throne, he scattereth gold before him;
In the battle, the heads of his enemies.
His cheek is as ruddy as the flower of the arghavan;
Young in years, all alive, and the favorite of fortune;
And though his hair is white as though with age,
Yet in his bravery he could tear to pieces the water-serpent.

"He rageth in the conflict with the fury of the crocodile,
He fighteth in the saddle like a sharp-fanged dragon.
In his wrath he staineth the earth with blood,
As he wieldeth his bright scimitar around him.
And though his hair is as white as is a fawn's,
In vain would the fault-finder seek another defect!
Nay, the whiteness of his hair even becometh him;
Thou wouldst say that he is born to beguile all hearts!"

When Rudabeh heard this description,
Her heart was set on fire, and her cheek crimsoned like the pomegranate.
Her whole soul was filled with the love of Zal,
And food, and peace, and quietude were driven far from her.

_After a time Rudabeh resolves to reveal her passion to her attendants._

Then she said to her prudent slaves:
"I will discover what I have hitherto concealed;
Ye are each of you the depositaries of my secrets,
My attendants, and the partners of my griefs.
I am agitated with love like the raging ocean,
Whose billows are heaved to the sky.
My once bright heart is filled with the love of Zal;
My sleep is broken with thoughts of him.
My soul is perpetually filled with my passion;
Night and day my thoughts dwell upon his countenance.

"Not one except yourselves knoweth my secret;
Ye, my affectionate and faithful servants,
What remedy can ye now devise for my ease?
What will ye do for me? What promise will ye give me?
Some remedy ye must devise,
To free my heart and soul from this unhappiness."

Astonishment seized the slaves,
That dishonor should come nigh the daughter of kings.
In the anxiety of their hearts they started from their seats,
And all gave answer with one voice:
"O crown of the ladies of the earth!
Maiden pre-eminent amongst the pre-eminent!
Whose praise is spread abroad from Hindustan to China;
The resplendent ring in the circle of the harem;
Whose stature surpasseth every cypress in the garden;
Whose cheek rivalleth the lustre of the Pleiades;
Whose picture is sent by the ruler of Kanuj
Even to the distant monarchs of the West--
Have you ceased to be modest in your own eyes?
Have you lost all reverence for your father,
That whom his own parent cast from his bosom,
Him will you receive into yours?
A man who was nurtured by a bird in the mountains!
A man who was a by-word amongst the people!
You--with your roseate countenance and musky tresses--
Seek a man whose hair is already white with age!
You--who have filled the world with admiration,
Whose portrait hangeth in every palace,
And whose beauty, and ringlets, and stature are such
That you might draw down a husband from the skies!"

_To this remonstrance she makes the following indignant answer:_

When Rudabeh heard their reply,
Her heart blazed up like fire before the wind.
She raised her voice in anger against them,
Her face flushed, but she cast down her eyes.
After a time, grief and anger mingled in her countenance,
And knitting her brows with passion, she exclaimed:
"O unadvised and worthless counsellors,
It was not becoming in me to ask your advice!
Were my eye dazzled by a star,
How could it rejoice to gaze even upon the moon?
He who is formed of worthless clay will not regard the rose,
Although the rose is in nature more estimable than clay!
I wish not for Caesar, nor Emperor of China,
Nor for any one of the tiara-crowned monarchs of Iran;
The son of Saum, Zal, alone is my equal,
With his lion-like limbs, and arms, and shoulders.
You may call him, as you please, an old man, or a young;
To me, he is in the room of heart and of soul.
Except him never shall any one have a place in my heart;
Mention not to me any one except him.
Him hath my love chosen unseen,
Yea, hath chosen him only from description.
For him is my affection, not for face or hair;
And I have sought his love in the way of honor."

_The slaves speak_.

"May hundreds of thousands such as we are be a sacrifice for thee;
May the wisdom of the creation be thy worthy portion;
May thy dark narcissus-eye be ever full of modesty;
May thy cheek be ever tinged with bashfulness!
If it be necessary to learn the art of the magician,
To sew up the eyes with the bands of enchantment,
We will fly till we surpass the enchanter's bird,
We will run like the deer in search of a remedy.
Perchance we may draw the King nigh unto his moon,
And place him securely at thy side."

The vermil lip of Rudabeh was filled with smiles;
She turned her saffron-tinted countenance toward the slave, and said:
"If thou shalt bring this matter to a happy issue,
Thou hast planted for thyself a stately and fruitful tree,
Which every day shall bear rubies for its fruit,
And shall pour that fruit into thy lap."

_The slaves arrange an interview between the lovers_.

Then said the elegant cypress-formed lady to her maidens:
"Other than this were once your words and your counsel!
Is this then the Zal, the nursling of a bird?
This the old man, white-haired and withered?
Now his cheek is ruddy as the flower of the arghavan;
His stature is tall, his face beautiful, his presence lordly!
Ye have exalted my charms before him;
Ye have spoken and made me a bargain!"
She said, and her lips were full of smiles,
But her cheek crimsoned like the bloom of pomegranate.

_The interview takes place in a private pavilion of the princess._

When from a distance the son of the valiant Saum
Became visible to the illustrious maiden,
She opened her gem-like lips, and exclaimed:
"Welcome, thou brave and happy youth!
The blessing of the Creator of the world be upon thee;
On him who is the father of a son like thee!
May destiny ever favor thy wishes!
May the vault of heaven be the ground thou walkest on!
The dark night is turned into day by thy countenance;
The world is soul-enlivened by the fragrance of thy presence!
Thou hast travelled hither on foot from thy palace;
Thou hast pained, to behold me, thy royal footsteps!"

When the hero heard the voice from the battlement,
He looked up and beheld a face resplendent as the sun,
Irradiating the terrace like a flashing jewel,
And brightening the ground like a naming ruby.

Then he replied: "O thou who sheddest the mild radiance of the moon,
The blessing of Heaven, and mine, be upon thee!
How many nights hath cold Arcturus beholden me,
Uttering my cry to God, the Pure,
And beseeching the Lord of the universe,
That he would vouchsafe to unveil thy countenance before me!
Now I am made joyful in hearing thy voice,
In listening to thy rich and gracious accents.
But seek, I pray thee, some way to thy presence;
For what converse can we hold, I on the ground, and thou on the
terrace?"

The Peri-faced maiden heard the words of the hero;
Quickly she unbound her auburn locks,
Coil upon coil, and serpent upon serpent;
And she stooped and dropped down the tresses from the battlement,
And cried: "O hero, child of heroes,
Take now these tresses, they belong to thee,
And I have cherished them that they might prove an aid to my beloved."

And Zal gazed upward at the lovely maiden,
And stood amazed at the beauty of her hair and of her countenance;
He covered the musky ringlets with his kisses,
And his bride heard the kisses from above.
Then he exclaimed: "That would not be right--
May the bright sun never shine on such a day!
It were to lay my hand on the life of one already distracted;
It were to plunge the arrow-point into my own wounded bosom."
Then he took his noose from his boy, and made a running knot,
And threw it, and caught it on the battlement,
And held his breath, and at one bound
Sprang from the ground, and reached the summit.

As soon as the hero stood upon the terrace,
The Peri-faced maiden ran to greet him,
And took the hand of the hero in her own,
And they went like those who are overcome with wine.

Then he descended from the lofty gallery,
His hand in the hand of the tall princess,
And came to the door of the gold-painted pavilion,
And entered that royal assembly,
Which blazed with light like the bowers of Paradise;
And the slaves stood like houris before them:
And Zal gazed in astonishment
On her face, and her hair, and her stately form, and on all that
splendor.

And Zal was seated in royal pomp
Opposite that mildly-radiant beauty;
And Rudabeh could not rest from looking towards him,
And gazing upon him with all her eyes;
On that arm, and shoulder, and that splendid figure,
On the brightness of that soul-enlightening countenance;
So that the more and more she looked
The more and more was her heart inflamed.

Then he kissed and embraced her, renewing his vows--
Can the lion help pursuing the wild ass?--
And said: "O sweet and graceful silver-bosomed maiden,
It may not be, that, both of noble lineage,
We should do aught unbecoming our birth;
For from Saum Nariman I received an admonition.
To do no unworthy deed, lest evil should come of it;
For better is the seemly than the unseemly,
That which is lawful than that which is forbidden.
And I fear that Manuchahar, when he shall hear of this affair,
Will not be inclined to give it his approval;
I fear, too, that Saum will exclaim against it,
And will boil over with passion, and lay his hand upon me.
Yet, though soul and body are precious to all men,
Life will I resign, and clothe myself with a shroud--
And this I swear by the righteous God--
Ere I will break the faith which I have pledged thee.
I will bow myself before Him, and offer my adoration,
And supplicate Him as those who worship Him in truth,
That He will cleanse the heart of Saum, king of the earth,
From opposition, and rage, and rancor.
Perhaps the Creator of the world may listen to my prayer,
And thou mayest yet be publicly proclaimed my wife."

And Rudabeh said: "And I also, in the presence of the righteous God,
Take the same pledge, and swear to thee my faith;
And He who created the world be witness to my words,
That no one but the hero of the world,
The throned, the crowned, the far-famed Zal,
Will I ever permit to be sovereign over me."

So their love every moment became greater;
Prudence was afar, and passion was predominant,
Till the gray dawn began to show itself,
And the drum to be heard from the royal pavilion.
Then Zal bade adieu to the fair one;
His soul was darkened, and his bosom on fire,
And the eyes of both were filled with tears;
And they lifted up their voices against the sun:
"O glory of the universe, why come so quick?
Couldst thou not wait one little moment"

Then Zal cast his noose on a pinnacle,
And descended from those happy battlements,
As the sun was rising redly above the mountains,
And the bands of warriors were gathering in their ranks.
_Robinson's Translation._

THE POEM OF THE CID.

Rodrigo Ruy Diaz, El Cid Campeador, was born near Burgos, in Spain, about
1040. The name Cid was given him by the Moors, and means lord. Campeador
means champion.

Ruy Diaz was the trusty lord of Sancho, King of Castile, who at his death
divided his kingdom among his children. He then espoused the cause of the
eldest son, Sancho, and assisted him in wresting their portion of the
kingdom from his brothers Garcia and Alfonso. Sancho having been
treacherously slain while besieging his sister Urraca's town of Zamora,
the Cid attached himself to Alfonso, humiliating him, however, by making
him and his chief lords swear that they had had no hand in Sancho's death.
For this, Alfonso revenged himself by exiling the Cid on the slightest
pretexts, recalling him only when his services were needed in the defence
of the country.

This much, and the Cid's victories over the Moors, his occupation of
Valencia, and his army's departure therefrom in 1102, led by his corpse
seated on horseback, "clothed in his habit as he lived", are historical
facts.

A great mass of romances, among them the story of his slaying Count Don
Gomez because he had insulted his father, Diego Laynez; of Don Gomez's
daughter Ximena wooing and wedding him; of his assisting the leper and
having his future success foretold by him, and of his embalmed body
sitting many years in the cathedral at Toledo, are related in the
"Chronicle of the Cid" and the "Ballads."

The Poem of the Cid narrates only a portion of his career, and "if it had
been named," says Ormsby, "would have been called 'The Triumph of the
Cid.'"

The Poem of the Cid was written about 1200 A. D. Its authorship is
unknown.

It contains three thousand seven hundred and forty-five lines, and is
divided into two cantares. The versification is careless; when rhyme
hampered the poet he dropped it, and used instead the assonant rhyme.

The Poem of the Cid is of peculiar interest because it belongs to the very
dawn of our modern literature, and because its hero was evidently a real
personage, a portion of whose history was recorded in this epic not long
after the events took place. The Cid is one of the most simple and natural
of the epic heroes; he has all a man's weaknesses, and it is difficult to
repress a smile at the perfectly natural manner in which, while he
slaughters enough Moors to secure himself a place in the heavenly kingdom,
he takes good care to lay up gold for the enjoyment of life on earth. The
poem is told with the greatest simplicity, naturalness, and directness, as
well as with much poetic fire.

BIBLIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM, THE CID.

Robert Southey's Chronicle of the Cid. . . . Appendix contains Poetry of
the Cid by J. H. Frere, 1808, new ed., 1845;

Matthew Arnold's Poem of the Cid, MacMillan, 1871, vol. xxiv., pp.
471-485;

George Dennio's The Cid: A short Chronicle founded on the early Poetry of
Spain, 1845;

Butler Clarke's The Cid (in his Spanish Literature, 1893, pp. 46-53);
E. E. Hale and Susan Hale's The Cid (in their Story of Spain, 1893, pp.
248-261);

Stanley Lane Poole's The Cid (in his Story of the Moors in Spain, 1891,
pp. 191-213);

Sismondi's Poem of the Cid (in his Literature of the South of Europe,
1884, vol. ii., pp. 95-140);

George Ticknor's Poem of the Cid (in his History of Spanish Literature,
ed. 6, 1893, vol. i., pp. 12-26);

W. T. Dobson's Classic Poets, (1879, pp. 35-138);

J. G. von Herder's Der Cid, nach spanischen Romanzen besungen (in his
works, 1852, vol. xiv.), translated.

STANDARD ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS, THE POEM OF THE CID.

The Poem of the Cid, Tr. by John Ormsby, 1879;

Translations from the Poem of the Cid by John Hookam Frere (in his works,
1872, vol. ii., p. 409);

Ballads of the Cid, Tr. by Lewis Gerard, 1883;

Ancient Spanish Ballads, Tr. by John Gibson Lockhart, 1823.

THE STORY OF THE POEM OF THE CID.

Tears stood in the eyes of the Cid as he looked at his pillaged castle.
The coffers were empty, even the falcons were gone from their perches.
"Cruel wrong do I suffer from mine enemy!" he exclaimed as they rode into
Burgos. "Alvar Fanez, of a truth we are banished men."

From the windows of Burgos town the burghers and their dames looked down
with tearful eyes upon the Cid and his sixty lances. "Would that his lord
were worthy of him," said they.

He rode up to the gates of his house in Burgos; the king's seal was upon
them. "My lord," cried a damsel from an upper casement, "thy goods are
forfeited to the king, and he has forbidden that we open door or shelter
thee upon pain of forfeiture of our goods, yea, even of our sight!"

Little hope then had the Cid of mercy from King Alfonso; and sooner than
bring suffering on his beloved people of Burgos he betook himself without
the city and sat him down to think of what to do. "Martin Antolinez," said
he, "I have no money with which to pay my troops. Thou must help me to get
it, and if I live I will repay thee double."

Then the two together fashioned two stout chests covered with red leather
and studded with gilt nails, and these they filled with sand. Then Martin
Antolinez without delay sought out the money lenders, Rachel and Vidas,
and bargained with them to lend the Cid six hundred marks, and take in
pawn for them the two chests filled with treasure that he dared not at
that time take away with him. For a year they were to keep the chests and
pledge themselves not to look in them. Glad were the hearts of the money
lenders as they lifted the heavy chests, and happy was the Cid when he saw
the six hundred marks counted out before him.

Seeking the monastery of San Pedro de Cardena, the Cid embraced his wife
Ximena and his two daughters, and left them in the protection of the
abbot, to whom he promised recompense. Hard was the pain of parting as
when the finger nail is torn away from the flesh, but a banished man has
no choice. And as they passed the night at Higeruela a sweet vision
promising success comforted the Cid in his slumbers; and many from
Castile, who heard of the departure of the hero, sought his banners to
better their fortune.

Next day the Cid and his men took Castejon and sold the spoil to the Moors
of Hita and Guadalajara, and then my Cid passed on and planted himself
upon a lofty and strong hill opposite Alcocer, and levied tribute upon the
neighboring peoples. When he had so besieged Alcocer for fifteen weeks he
took it by stratagem, and Pero Bermuez, the slow of speech, planted his
standard on the highest part. When the King of Valencia heard of this, he
determined to capture my Cid, and accordingly sent three thousand Moors to
lay siege to Alcocer.

When the water was cut off and bread became scarce, the six hundred
Spanish men, acting upon the advice of Minaya, took the field against the
three thousand Moors; and such was the valor of him that in a good hour
was born, and of his standard bearer, Pero Bermuez, and of the good
Minaya, that the Moors fell to the ground three hundred at a time, their
shields shivered, their mail riven, their white pennons red with blood.

"Thanks be to God for victory!" said the Cid. In the Moorish king's camp
was found great spoil,--shields, arms, and horses. Greatly the Christians
rejoiced, for to them fell much spoil, and but fifteen of their men were
missing. Even to the Moors my Cid gave some of his spoil, and from his
share of one hundred horses he sent by Minaya thirty, saddled and bridled,
with as many swords hung at the saddle bows, to King Alfonso. Also he sent
by him a wallet of gold and silver for his wife and daughters, and to pay
for a thousand Masses at Burgos.

Alfonso was well pleased to receive this token. "It is too soon to take
him into favor, but I will accept his present, and I am glad he won the
victory. Minaya, I pardon thee; go to the Cid and say that I will permit
any valiant man who so desires to follow him."

Upon the hill now called the hill of the Cid, he who girt on the sword in
a good hour, took up his abode and levied tribute on the people for
fifteen weeks. But when he saw that Minaya's return was delayed, he went
even unto Saragossa, levying tribute and doing much damage, insomuch that
the Count of Barcelona, Raymond de Berenger, was provoked into making an
assault upon him in the Pine Wood of Bivar, where he was ingloriously
defeated and taken prisoner. The count was the more shamed at this because
my Cid had sent him a friendly message, saying that he did not want to
fight him, since he owed him no grudge. When Count Raymond had given up
his precious sword, the great Colada, the good one of Bivar endeavored to
make friends with his prisoner, but to no avail. The count refused meat
and drink, and was determined to die, until the Cid assured him that as
soon as he ate a hearty meal he should go free. Then he departed joyfully
from the camp, fearing even to the last lest the Cid should change his
mind, a thing the perfect one never would have done.

Cheered by this conquest, the Cid turned to Valencia, and met a great
Moorish army, which was speedily defeated, the Cid's numbers having been
greatly increased by men who flocked to him from Spain. Two Moorish kings
were slain, and the survivors were pursued even to Valencia. Then my Cid
sat down before the city for nine months, and in the tenth month Valencia
surrendered. The spoil--who could count it? All were rich who accompanied
the Cid, and his fifth was thirty thousand marks in money, besides much
other spoil. And my Cid's renown spread throughout Spain. Wonderful was he
to look upon, for his beard had grown very long. For the love of King
Alfonso, who had banished him, he said it should never be cut, nor a hair
of it be plucked, and it should be famous among Moors and Christians. Then
he again called Minaya to him, and to King Alfonso sent a hundred horses,
with the request that his wife and daughters might be allowed to join him.
Also he sent him word that he had been joined by a good bishop, Don
Jerome, and had created for him a bishopric.

Now were the enemies of the good one of Bivar incensed in proportion as
the king was pleased with this noble gift. And when the king silenced the
envious ones, and ordered an escort for Ximena and her daughters, and
treated Minaya with consideration, the Infantes of Carrion talked
together, commenting on the growing importance of my Cid. "It would better
our fortunes to marry his daughters, but they are below us in rank." And
so saying they sent their salutations to the Cid.

The Cid met his wife and daughters on his new horse, Babieca, the wonder
of all Spain, and great was his joy to clasp them again in his arms. And
he took them up in the highest part of Valencia, and their bright eyes
looked over the city and the sea, and they all thanked God for giving them
so fair a prize.

When winter was past and spring had come, the King of Morocco crossed the
sea to Valencia with fifty thousand men, and pitched his tents before the
city. Then the Cid took his wife and daughters up in the Alcazar, and
showed them the vast army. "They bring a gift for us, a dowry against the
marriage of our daughters. Because ye are here, with God's help, I shall
win the battle."

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