Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and Holland: Vols. XIV–XV. 1876–79.

Spain: Valladolid

Valladolid

By Spanish Ballad

Translated by J. G. Lockhart

MY heart was happy when I turned from Burgos to Valladolid;

My heart that day was light and gay, it bounded like a kid.

I met a palmer on the way, my horse he bade me rein,—

“I left Valladolid to-day, I bring thee news of pain!

The lady-love whom thou dost seek in gladness and in cheer,

Closed is her eye, and cold her cheek, I saw her on her bier.

“The priests went singing of the mass,—my voice their song did aid;

A hundred knights with them did pass to the burial of the maid;

And damsels fair went weeping there, and many a one did say,

‘Poor Cavalier! he is not here,—’t is well he ’s far away.’”

I fell when thus I heard him speak, upon the dust I lay;

I thought my heart would surely break, I wept for half a day.

When evening came I rose again, the palmer held my steed,

And swiftly rode I o’er the plain to dark Valladolid.

I came unto the sepulchre where they my love had laid,

I bowed me down beside the bier, and there my moan I made:

“O, take me, take me to thy bed, I fain would sleep with thee!

My love is dead, my hope is fled,—there is no joy for me!”

I heard a sweet voice from the tomb, I heard her voice so clear:

“Rise up, rise up, my knightly love, thy weeping well I hear;

Rise up and leave this darksome place,—it is no place for thee;

God yet will send thee helpful grace, in love and chivalry.

Though in the grave my bed I have, for thee my heart is sore;

’T will ease my heart if thou depart,—thy peace may God restore!”