The Song of the Cid (4 page)

Although most of these editions and studies contain narratives of the history of Spain in the eleventh century, and of the Cid's life, none can match the breadth and depth of Richard Fletcher's
The Quest for El Cid
(New York: Knopf, 1990). This is today the fundamental and highly readable source for the life and times of the historical Cid, complete with extended discussions of the historical sources in all languages; invaluable as well are Fletcher's detailed observations on the differences between the presentation of the hero in the poem and what is known from other sources, and the ways that some traditions of scholarship have blurred the two. Other accessible narratives of the history of the period, in the broader context of the cultures and histories of medieval Spain, include Fletcher's
Moorish Spain
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992), Bernard F. Reilly,
The Medieval Spains
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), and María Rosa Menocal,
The Ornament of the World
(New York: Little Brown, 2002). Peter Linehan's 1996 article “The Court Historiographer of Francoism?:
La leyenda oscura
of Ramón Menéndez Pidal” appeared in the
Bulletin of Spanish Studies
(73:4, 437-450) and is essential reading for anyone interested in the intersection of contemporary and historical concerns in general, and especially in the life and works of the great Spanish intellectuals who survived the civil war and had to choose either exile or a return to Franco's Spain.

 

MARÍA ROSA MENOCAL

A Note on the Translation

My basic text has been
Poema de Mio Cid
, edited by Colin Smith. I have used the second edition, a Spanish-language text (1985), rather than the original English-language edition (1972), because the second edition has been corrected and enlarged. I have occasionally not followed Smith, particularly with regard to line sequence and the correct placement of the arabic numerals indicating a new section (
laisse
). Miguel de Unamuno's
Gramática y Glosario del Poema del Cid
, posthumously published in 1977, has often been helpful.

 

BURTON RAFFEL

1

 

De los sos ojos tan fuertemientre llorando,
tornava la cabeça e estávalos catando;
vio puertas abiertas e uços sin cañados,
alcándaras vazías, sin pielles e sin mantos
e sin falcones e sin adtores mudados.
Sospiró Mio Cid, ca mucho avié grandes cuidados;
fabló Mio Cid bien e tan mesurado:
“¡Grado a ti, Señor, Padre que estás en alto!
Esto me an buelto mios enemigos malos.”

 

 

2

 

Allí piensan de aguijar, allí sueltan las rriendas;
a la exida de Bivar ovieron la corneja diestra
e entrando a Burgos oviéronla siniestra.
Meció Mio Cid los ombros e engrameó la tiesta:
“¡Albricia, Álbar Fáñez, ca echados somos de tierra!”

 

 

3

 

Mio Cid Rruy Díaz por Burgos entrava,
en su conpaña
sessaenta
pendones.
Exiénlo ver mugieres e varones,
burgeses e burgesas por las fıniestras son,

1

 

Tears were flowing from his eyes, then flowing faster
As he turned and looked back, just standing.
He saw the doors, swung open, padlocks gone,
Wall pegs empty, no furs, no gowns
Or cloaks, no falcons or molting hawks.
My Cid sighed, his burdens weighing him down.
My Cid spoke, in measured, well-controlled tones:
“I thank you, my Father, my Lord on high!
This is the vulture trap my evil enemies sent me.”

 

 

2

 

They spurred the horses, let the reins hang low.
To their right, leaving Vivar, they saw a hooded crow,
But as they reached Burgos it flew to their left.
My Cid shrugged his shoulders and shook his head:
“Let it be a good sign, Alvar Fáñez, for now we're exiles!”

 

 

3

 

My Cid, Ruy Díaz, rode into Burgos.
His sixty men carried spears, hung with banners.
Men and women came out, when they appeared;
Merchants and their wives leaned from their windows, staring,
plorando de los ojos, tanto avién el dolor;
de las sus bocas todos dizían una rrazón:
“¡Dios, qué buen vassallo, si oviesse buen señor!”

 

 

 

4

 

Conbidar le ien de grado, mas ninguno non osava,
el rrey don Alfonso tanto avié la grand saña;
antes de la noche en Burgos d'él entró su carta
con grand rrecabdo e fuertemientre sellada:
que a Mio Cid Rruy Díaz que nadi nol' diessen posada
e aquel que ge la diesse sopiesse vera palabra
que perderié los averes e más los ojos de la cara
e aun demás los cuerpos e las almas.
Grande duelo avién las yentes cristianas,
ascóndense de Mio Cid, ca nol' osan dezir nada.
El Campeador adeliñó a su posada,
assí como llegó a la puerta, fallóla bien cerrada
por miedo del rrey Alfonso, que assí lo avién parado
que si non la quebrantás por fuerça, que non ge la abriesse
nadi.
Los de Mio Cid a altas vozes llaman,
los de dentro non les querién tornar palabra.
Aguijó Mio Cid, a la puerta se llegava,
sacó el pie del estribera, una ferídal' dava;
non se abre la puerta, ca bien era cerrada.
Una niña de nuef años a ojo se parava:
“¡Ya Campeador, en buen ora cinxiestes espada!
El rrey lo ha vedado, anoch d'él e[
n
]tró su carta
con grant rrecabdo e fuertemientre sellada.
Non vos osariemos abrir nin coger por nada;
si non, perderiemos los averes e las casas
e demás - los ojos de las caras.
Cid, en el nuestro mal vós non ganades nada,
mas el Criador vos vala con todas sus vertudes sanctas.”
Esto la niña dixo e tornós' pora su casa.

Weeping, overcome with sorrow.
And from their lips, all of them, fell the same prayer:
“O God, what a wonderful servant, if only he had a decent
master!”

 

 

4

 

They would have been glad to ask him in, but no one dared;
Don Alfonso, the king, was far too angry.
He'd sent the city a notice, received the night before,
Sealed in dramatic passion, and urgent:
My Cid, Ruy Díaz, was to be turned away,
Given nothing. Whoever dared to disobey
Would lose whatever they owned, their eyes would be torn from
their heads,
And their bodies and souls would be lost forever.
Every Christian in Burgos was bent in fear
And sorrow, hiding from my Cid, too terrified to speak.
The Warrior rode to the Burgos house where he'd always gone;
He stood at the door, solid and bolted shut
By the people inside, for fear of King Alfonso.
Unless he broke it down, nothing would force it open.
My Cid called to them, his voice raised high,
But no one inside would reply.
My Cid rode up to the door,
Slipped his foot from the stirrup, and kicked at the place.
But no one opened what was closed tight in his face.
Then a little girl appeared, nine years old:
“It's done, Warrior, you who have worn your sword so proudly!
The king has forbidden it, his order came last night—
Strict and fierce, harsh and sealed all over, tight.
We don't dare help you, we can't do a thing,
And if we did, we'd lose our houses and everything—
And what's still worse, the eyes in our heads!
My Cid, you'd win nothing from our misery, our death,
But may the Creator protect you with his heavenly blessing.”
The little girl said this, then went back in her house.

Ya lo vee el Cid que del rrey non avié gr[
aci
]a;
partiós' de la puerta, por Burgos aguijava,
llegó a Sancta María, luego descavalga,
fıncó los inojos, de coraçón rrogava.
La oración fecha, luego cavalgava,
salió por la puerta e Arlançón p
a
[
s
]sava,
cabo essa villa en la glera posava,
fıncava la tienda e luego descavalgava.
Mio Cid Rruy Díaz, el que en buen ora cinxo espada,
posó en la glera quando nol' coge nadi en casa,
derredor d'él una buena conpaña;
assí posó Mio Cid como si fuesse en montaña.
Vedádal' an conpra dentro en Burgos la casa
de todas cosas quantas son de vianda;
non le osarién vender al menos dinarada.

 

 

5

 

Martín Antolínez, el burgalés conplido,
a Mio Cidealos suyos abástales de pan e de vino,
non lo conpra, ca él se lo avié consigo,
de todo conducho bien los ovo bastidos;
pagós' Mio Cid e todos los otros que van a so cervicio.
Fabló Martín A[
n
]tolínez, odredes lo que á dicho:
“¡Ya Canpeador, en buen ora fuestes nacido!
Esta noch y[
a
]gamos e vay[
á
]mosnos al matino,
ca acusado seré de lo que vos he servido,
en ira del rrey Alfonso yo seré metido.
Si convusco escapo sano o bivo,
aún cerca o tarde el rrey querer me ha por amigo,
si non, quanto dexo no lo precio un fıgo.”

My Cid knew the king was burning inside.
He turned away from the door, galloped through Burgos,
Straight to Saint Mary's cathedral, where he dropped from his
horse,
Fell on his knees, and prayed from his heart.
The moment his prayer was finished, he departed;
Galloping through city gates he crossed the great river, the
Arlanzón.
Not far from Burgos, sand all around,
He stopped, ordered tents put up, and then dismounted.
My Cid, Ruy Díaz, who had worn his sword with pride,
Was lodged, near this city now closed to him, in a barren sand
pile,
But with good company all around him.
My Cid, camped as if in a mountain wilderness,
Forbidden to buy food of any kind, in Burgos,
Nothing at all, and the people behind their doors
Barred from selling him half a penny's worth.

 

 

5

 

Martín Antolínez, that deft citizen,
Brought bread and wine for my Cid and his men—
Things he did not buy, he already had them—
So they had plenty, whatever they wanted.
Warrior Cid, mighty Conqueror, was glad,
And so were all who'd come with him.
Martín Antolínez spoke: listen to what he said!
“O, mighty Cid, born at a lucky hour!
Stay here tonight, and we'll leave in the morning—
Because, for sure, I'll be accused of doing what I've done,
And King Alfonso's anger will hunt me down.
If I run off with you, and stay in one piece,
Sooner or later the king will want to be friendly—
And if not, whatever I leave is dust on the ground.”

 

 

6

 

Fabló Mio Cid, el que en buen ora cinxo espada:
“¡Martín Antolínez, sodes ardida lança!
Si yo bivo, doblar vos he la soldada.
Espeso é el oro e toda la plata,
bien lo vedes que yo non trayo aver
e huebos me serié | pora toda mi compaña.
Fer lo he amidos, de grado non avrié nada:
con vuestro consejo bastir quiero dos arcas,
inchámoslas d'arena, ca bien serán pesadas,
cubiertas de guadalmecí e bien enclaveadas.

 

 

7

 

“Los guadamecís vermejos e los clavos bien dorados.
Por Rrachel e Vidas vayádesme privado:
quando en Burgos me vedaron conpra e el rrey me á airado,
non puedo traer el aver, ca mucho es pesado,
enpeñar ge lo he por lo que fuere guisado,
de noche lo lieven que non lo vean cristianos.
Véalo el Criador con todos los sos sanctos,
yo más non puedo e amidos lo fago.”

 

 

8

 

Martín Antolínez non lo detar
d
a,
por Rrachel e Vidas apriessa demandava;
passó por Burgos, al castiello entrava,
por Rrachel e Vidas apriessa demandava.

 

 

6

 

My Cid replied, he who raised his sword at a lucky hour:
“Martín Antolínez, you're a bold soldier!
If I live, I'll double your pay!
I've used up all my gold, and my silver,
You can see for yourself I've taken nothing away.
I've got to find something for these men of mine—
No one will help; I'll do what I dislike.
So lend me a hand, we'll make two storage chests.
We'll stuff them with sand, I want them good and heavy,
Covered with leather, embossed and studded just right!

 

 

7

 

“The leather will be crimson, the nails perfectly gilded.
Now go, as fast as you can, tell Raguel and Vidas:
Since I'm barred from Burgos, and the king is still angry,
And I can't carry what I've got—it's much too heavy—
I need to pawn it at some fair price.
Tell them to come and take it at night, so Christians can't spy.
Let God almighty see, and all his saints:
This isn't business I like; what good would it do to complain?”