The Maiden Tribute

The noble King Ramiro within the chamber sate,
One day, with all his barons, in council and debate,
When, without leave or guidance of usher or of groom,
There came a comely maiden into the council-room.

She was a comely maiden—she was surpassing fair.
All loose upon her shoulders hung down her golden hair;
From head to foot her garments were white as white may be;
And while they gazed in silence, thus in the midst spake she.

"Sir King, I crave your pardon, if I have done amiss
In venturing before ye, at such an hour as this;
But I will tell my story, and when my words ye hear,
I look for praise and honour, and no rebuke I fear.

"I know not if I'm bounden to call thee by the name
Of Christian, King Ramiro; for though thou dost not claim
A heathen realm's allegiance, a heathen sure thou art,
Beneath a Spaniard's mantle thou hidest a Moorish heart.

"For he who gives the Moor-King a hundred maids of Spain,
Each year when in its season the day comes round again;
If he be not a heathen, he swells the heathen's train—
'Twere better burn a kingdom than suffer such disdain.

"If the Moslem must have tribute, make men your tribute-money,
Send idle drones to teaze them within their hives of honey;
For when 'tis paid with maidens, from every maid there spring
Some five or six strong soldiers, to serve the Moorish King.

"It is but little wisdom to keep our men at home,
They serve but to get damsels, who, when their day is come,
Must go, like all the others, the proud Moor's bed to sleep in—
In all the rest they're useless, and nowise worth the keeping.

"And if 'tis fear of battle that makes ye bow so low,
And suffer such dishonour from God our Saviour's foe,—
I pray you, sirs, take warning—ye'll have as good a fright,
If e'er the Spanish damsels arise themselves to right.

'Tis we have manly courage, within the breasts of women,
But ye are all hare-hearted, both gentlemen and yeomen."—
—Thus spake that fearless maiden; I wot when she was done,
Uprose the King Ramiro and his nobles every one.

The King call'd God to witness, that, come there weal or woe,
Thenceforth no maiden-tribute from out Castile should go;—
"At least I will do battle on God our Saviour's foe,
And die beneath my banner before I see it so."—

A cry went through the mountains when the proud Moor drew near,
And trooping to Ramiro came every Christian spear;
The blessed Saint Iago, they called upon his name;—
That day began our freedom, and wiped away our shame.