is the former of these that is here reprinted. They both of them begin with the same
line:
Rio verde, rio verde.[2]which could not be translated faithfully:
Verdant river, verdant river,would have given an affected stiffness to the verse; the great merit of which is easy
simplicity; and therefore a more simple epithet was adopted, though less poetical or
expressive.
'Rio verde, rio verde,
Quanto cuerpo en ti se baña
De Christianos y de Moros
Muertos por la dura espada!
'Y tus ondas cristalinas
De roxa sangre se esmaltan:
Entre Moros y Christianos
Muy gran batalla se trava.
'Murieron Duques y Condes,
Grandes senores de salva:
Murio gente de valia
De la nobleza de España.
'En ti murio don Alonso,
Que de Aguilar se llamaba;
El valeroso Urdiales,
Con don Alonso acabada.
'Por un ladera arriba
El buen Sayavedra marcha;
Naturel es de Sevilla,
De la gente mas granada.
'Tras el iba un Renegado,
Desta manera le habla;
"Date, date, Sayavedra,
No huyas de la batalla.
"'Yo te conozco muy bien,
Gran tiempo estuve en tu casa
Y en la Plaça de Sevilla
Bien te vide jugar canas.
"'Conozco a tu padre y madre,
Y a tu muger Doña Clara;
Siete años fui tu cautivo,
Malamente me tratabas.
"'Y aura le seras mio,
Si Mahoma me ayudara;GENTLE river, gentle river,
Lo, thy streams are stain'd with gore,
Many a brave and noble captain
Floats along thy willow'd shore.
All beside thy limpid waters,
All beside thy sands so bright,
Moorish Chiefs and Christian Warriors
Join'd in fierce and mortal fight.
Lords, and dukes, and noble princes
On thy fatal banks were slain:
Fatal banks that gave to slaughter
All the pride and flower of Spain.
There the hero, brave Alonzo,
Full of wounds and glory died:
There the fearless Urdiales
Fell a victim by his side.
Lo! where yonder Don Saavedra
Thro' their squadrons slow retires
Proud Seville, his native city,
Proud Seville his worth admires.
Close behind a renegado
Loudly shouts with taunting cry;
"Yield thee, yield thee, Don Saavedra,
Dost thou from the battle fly?
"Well I know thee, haughty Christian,
Long I liv'd beneath thy roof;
Oft I've in the lists of glory
Seen thee win the prize of proof.
"Well I know thy aged parents,
Well thy blooming bride I know;
Seven years I was thy captive,
Seven years of pain and woe.
May our prophet grant my wishes,
Haughty chief, thou shalt be mine: