THE ALCAZAR OF SEVILLE
ROMANCE III

As round some solitary tower,
At setting of the sun,
Fierce birds of prey are whirling seen,
Revolving one by one,
Thus with Don Pedro in their turn
Have various thoughts a trace,
Whose shadows darken as they pass
The expression of his face.
Now occupies his angry mind
His brother’s power and state,
Of those whose mother he had slain,
And birth would criminate.
Now of unquietnesses borne,
Great scorn and insult shown,
Or of his failing treasury,
Nor means to fill it known.
Now of the fair Aldonza’s charms,
His fortune ’twas to gain,
Or of the blood-stain’d forms of those
He had unjustly slain.
Now some projected enterprise,
Some treaty to defeat,
Faith-breaking with Granada’s Moor,
Or treason or deceit.
But as the birds the lonely tower,
The broken heights between,
Are all at length, as one by one,
Retiring hiding seen;
And constant only one remains,
Revolving it infest,
The fiercest, strongest on the wing,
That will admit no rest;
Thus all that multitude confused
Of passions wild and strange,
Of which Don Pedro for a while
Was tangled in the range,
At length from breast and head alike
Fled finding a retreat,
And living left distinct alone,
With horror great replete,
The image of Fadrique,
His eldest brother famed,
The pride of knights and Master those
Of Santiago named.

Now from Humillia’s conquer’d walls,
With matchless courage won,
In triumph had Fadrique come
O’er vanquish’d Aragon.
Where erst the bars, the castles now
He floating left abroad,
And to present the keys he brings
His brother, king and lord.
Well knows the king no rebel he,
But friend and ally true,
And more than Tello madly hates,
And more than Henry too.
’Twas he Fadrique had the charge
From France to bring the queen,
The Lady Blanche, but he allow’d
A year to intervene.
With her in Narbonne he delay’d,
And rumours thus of those,
Which whether true or false alike
Are poisonous, arose.
And in Medina’s tower the price
The Lady Blanche now pays,
Of all the palace whisperings,
And journey’s long delays.
And on his shoulders yet untouch’d
His head Fadrique wears,
Because of his great wealth and power
And honour’d name he bears.
But, woe for him! the ladies all
Him as their idol own,
For his gay port and gallant mien,
And manly courage known.
And if he cause the throne no fear,
In his fidelity,
He gives what’s worse, though that were bad,
The heart strong jealousy.

Meanwhile the fair Padillia,
Whose judgement clear and great,
Her royal lover’s secret thoughts,
Though deepest penetrate,
In whom the goodness of her heart
The enchantment still excels,
That in her beauteous face and form
So marvellously dwells,
Unhappy victim lives of fears,
That ever her attend,
Because she loves the king, and sees
His course in evil end:
She knows that based in blood and grief,
And persecution’s train,
A palace never is secure,
No throne can fix’d remain.
And she has two young tender girls,
Who with another sire,
Whate’er their lot, might all have gain’d
Their hearts could best require;
And in Fadrique’s worth she sees
A stay and partisan.
She knows he comes to Seville now,
And as from words can scan
Her fierce lord’s brow dark lowering,
In evil hour he came,
And to allay suspicions,
Or give them higher aim,
At length, though with a trembling lip,
The silence breaking dared
To speak, and thus the words that pass’d
Between the two declared:
«Your brother then, Fadrique,
Triumphant comes today?»
«And certainly in coming,
The wretch makes long delay».
«He serves you well, and hero-like,
As does Humillia show,
Of loyalty gives proofs, and brave
He is» —«Sufficient so».
«You may be sure, Sire, that his heart
Will ever true remain».
«Tomorrow still more sure of that».
Both silent were again.