| |
| IN arms and in anger, in struggle and strife, | |
| Gonzalo Hermiguez won his wife; | |
| He slew the Moor who from the fray | |
| Was rescuing Fatima that day. | |
| In vain she shrieked; Gonzalo pressed | 5 |
| The Moorish prisoner to his breast: | |
| That breast in iron was arrayed; | |
| The gauntlet was bloody that grasped the maid; | |
| Through the beaver-sight his eye | |
| Glared fierce and red and wrathfully; | 10 |
| And, while he bore the captive away, | |
| His heart rejoiced, and he blest the day. | |
| |
| Under the lemon-walk’s odorous shade | |
| Gonzalo Hermiguez wooed the maid: | |
| The ringlets of his raven hair | 15 |
| Waved upon the evening air; | |
| And gentle thoughts, that raise a sigh, | |
| Softened the warrior’s dark-brown eye, | |
| When he with passion and sweet song | |
| Wooed her to forgive the wrong, | 20 |
| Till she no more could say him nay; | |
| And the Moorish maiden blest the day | |
| When Gonzalo bore her a captive away. | |
| |
| To the holy Church, with pomp and pride, | |
| Gonzalo Hermiguez led his bride. | 25 |
| In the sacred font, that happy day, | |
| Her stain of sin was washed away; | |
| There did the Moorish maiden claim | |
| Another faith, another name; | |
| There, as a Christian convert, plight | 30 |
| Her faith unto the Christian Knight; | |
| And Oriana blest the day | |
| When Gonzalo bore her a captive away. | |
| |
| Of Affonso Henriques’ court the pride | |
| Were Gonzalo Hermiguez and his bride: | 35 |
| In battle strongest of the strong, | |
| In peace the master of the song, | |
| Gonzalo of all was first in fame; | |
| The loveliest she and the happiest dame: | |
| But, ready for her heavenly birth, | 40 |
| She was not left to fade on earth; | |
| In that dread hour, with Heaven in view, | |
| The comfort of her faith she knew, | |
| And blest on her death-bed the day | |
| When Gonzalo bore her a captive away. | 45 |
| |
| Through a long and holy life | |
| Gonzalo Hermiguez mourned his wife: | |
| The arms wherewith he won his bride, | |
| Sword, shield, and lance were laid aside; | |
| That head which the high-plumed helm had worn | 50 |
| Was now of its tresses shaven and shorn: | |
| A Monk of Alcobaça he, | |
| Eminent for sanctity. | |
| Contented in his humble cell, | |
| The meekest of the meek, to dwell, | 55 |
| His business was, by night and day, | |
| For Oriana’s soul to pray. | |
| Never day did he let pass | |
| But scored to her account a Mass; | |
| Devoutly for the dear one dead | 60 |
| With self-inflicted stripes he bled: | |
| This was Gonzalo’s sole employ, | |
| This was Gonzalo’s only joy; | |
| Till love, thus purified, became | |
| A holy, yea, a heavenly flame; | 65 |
| And now in Heaven both bless the day | |
| When he bore the Moorish captive away. | |
| |
