I slew him at the first onfall ; I gave his steed to you ;

To no man have I told the tale from that hour hitherto.
Before the Cid and all his men you got yourself a name,

How you in single combat slew a Moor — a deed of fame ;

And all believed in your exploit ; they wist not of your shame.
You are a craven at the core ; tall, handsome, as you stand :

How dare you talk as now you talk, you tongue without a hand ?

Again, Ferrando, call to mind — another tale for you —

That matter of the lion ; it was at Valencia too.
My Cid lay sleeping when you saw the unchained lion near ;

What did you do, Ferrando, then, in your agony of fear ?

Low did you crouch behind the couch whereon the Champion lay :

You did, Ferrando, and by that we rate your worth to-day.
We gathered round to guard our lord, Valencia's conqueror.
He rose, and to the lion went, the brave Campeador ;

The lion fawned before his feet and let him grasp its mane ;

He thrust it back into its cage; he turned to us again :

His trusty vassals to a man he saw around him there :

Where were his sons-in-law ? he asked, and none could tell him where.
Now take thou my defiance as a traitor, trothless knight :

Upon this plea before our King Alfonso will I fight ;

The daughters of my lord are wronged, their wrong is mine to right.
That ye those ladies did desert, the baser are ye then ;

For what are they ? — weak women ; and what are ye ? — strong men.
