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Then captured was Guarinos, King Charles's Admiral,
thrall; Seven times when all the chase was o'er, for Guarinos lots
they cast; Seven times Marlotes won the throw, and the knight was his
Much joy had then Marlotes, and his captive much did
prize, Above all the wealth of Araby, he was precious in his eyes. Within his tent at evening he made the best of cheer, And thus, the banquet done, he spake unto his prisoner.
“Now, for the sake of Allah, Lord Admiral Guarinos, Be thou a Moslem, and much love shall ever rest between us. Two daughters have I !-all the day shall one thy handmaid
beThe other (and the fairest far) by night shall cherish thee.
“ The one shall be thy waiting-maid, thy weary feet to lave, To scatter perfumes on thy head, and fetch thee garments
brave: The other--she the pretty one shall deck her bridal bower, And my field and my city they both shall be her dower.
“If more thou wishest, more I'll give. Speak boldly what
thy thought is." Thus earnestly and kindly to Guarinos said Marlotes : But not a minute did he take to ponder or to pause, Thus clear and quick the answer of the Christian Captain was.
“Now, God forbid! Marlotes, and Mary his dear mother, That I should leave the faith of Christ and bind me to
For women-I've one wife in France, and I'll wed no more in
Wroth waxed King Marlotes, when thus he heard hinı say,
With iron bands they bound his hands; that sore unworthy
plight Might well express his helplessness, doomed never more to
fight. Again, from cincture down to knee, long bolts of iron he
bore, Which signified the knight should ride on charger never
Three times alone in all the year it is the captive's doom
gloom; Three times alone they bring him out, like Samson long ago, Before the Moorish rabble-rout to be a sport and show.
On these high feasts they bring him forth, a spectacle to be-
the bowers, And gladden mosque and minaret with the first fruits of the
Days come and go of gloom and show. Seven years are past
And now doth fall the festival of the holy Baptist John;
Christian and Moslem tilts and jousts, to give it honour due, And rushes on the paths to spread, they force the sulky Jew.
Marlotes in his joy and pride a target high doth rear,
Wroth waxed King Marlotes, when he beheld them fail,
pale. The herald's proclamation made, with trumpets, through the
town, “Nor child shall suck, nor man shall eat, till the mark be
tumbled down !"
The cry of proclamation and the trumpets haughty sound Did send an echo to the vault where the Admiral was bound.' « Now help me, God!" the captive cries.
" What means this cry so loud ? 0, Queen of Heaven! be vengeance given on these thy haters
“Oh! is it that some Paynim gay doth Marlotes' daughter
wed, And that they bear my scorned fair in triumph to his bed ! Or is it that the day is come-one of the hateful threeWhen they, with trumpet fife and drum, make heathen game
These words the jailer chanced to hear, and thus to him he
said : “These tabours, lord, and trumpets clear conduct no bride
to bed ;
Nor has the feast come round again, when he that hath the
right Commands thee forth, thou foe of Spain, to glad the people's
“This is the joyful morning of John the Baptist's day, When Moor and Christian feasts at home, each in his nation's
way; But now our king commands that none his banquet shall
begin, Until some knight, by strength or sleight, the spearman's
prize do win.”
Then out and spoke Guarinos : “Oh! soon each man should
feed, Were I but mounted once again on my own gallant steed. Oh, were I mounted as of old, and harnessed cap-a-pie, Full soon Marlotes' prize I'd hold whate'er its price may be.
“Give me my horse, my old grey horse, so be he is not dead, All gallantly caparisoned with plate on breast and head ; And give me the lance I brought from France, and if I win it
not My life shall be the forfeiture, I'll yield it on the spot."
The jailer wondered at his words. Thus to the knight said
“Seven weary years of chains and gloom have little humbled
thee. There's never a man in Spain, I trow, the like so well might
bear, An' if thou wilt I with thy vow will to the King repair.”
The jailer put his mantle on and came unto the King,
Close to his ear he planted him, and the story did begin,
That were he mounted but once more on his own gallant
grey, And armed with the lance he bore on the Roncesvalles day, What never Moorish knight could pierce, he would pierce it
at a blow, Or give with joy his life-blood fierce at Marlotes' feet to flow.
Much marvelling, then said the King: “Bring Sir Guarinos
forth, And in the grange go seek ye for his grey steed of worth; His arms are rusty on the wall, seven years
gone, I judge, Since that strong horse hath bent him to be a common
Now this will be a sight indeed to see the enfeebled lord Essay to mount that ragged steed, and draw that rusty
sword; And for the vaunting of his phrase he well deserves to die : So jailer gird his harness on, and bring your champion nigh.”
They have girded on his shirt of mail, his cuisses well they've
clasped, And they've barred the helm on his visage pale, and his hand
the lance hath grasped ; And they have caught the old grey horse, the horse he loved
And he stands pawing at the gate, caparisoned once more.
When the knight came out the Moors did shout, and loudly
laughed the King, For the horse he pranced and capered and furiously did fling;