The Song of the Cid by Anonymous Page B

prepared to ride,
But my Cid kept looking eagerly back,
Until Minaya Alvar Fáñez gave him this wise advice:
“Cid, where has your courage gone? You were born to your
mother
In good fortune! What a waste of time! We need to ride.
All our sorrows can still be turned to delight;
The God who gave us souls can also give advice.”
Abbot Don Sancho was admonished, again,
To care for Doña Jimena and her daughters
And all her ladies as well.
The abbot knew he’d be richly rewarded.
As the priest was leaving, Alvar Fáñez said:
“Abbot, if more men come looking for us,
Tell them to follow our hoofprints, and hurry:
    ca en yermo o en poblado poder nos [han] alcançar.”
Soltaron las rriendas, piessan de andar,
cerca viene el plazo por el rreino quitar.
Vino Mio Cid yazer a Spinaz de Can,
grandes yentes se le acojen essa noch de todas partes.
Otro día mañana piensa de cavalgar,
ixiendos’ va de tierra el Canpeador leal,
de siniestro Sant Estevan, una buena cipdad,
de diestro Alilón las torres que moros las han,
passó por Alcobiella, que de Castiella fın es ya,
la calçada de Quinea ívala traspassar,
sobre Navas de Palos el Duero va passar,
a la Figueruela Mio Cid iva posar;
vánsele acogiendo yentes de todas partes.
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    Ã se echava Mio Cid después que fue cenado,
un suéñol’ priso dulce, tan bien se adurmió;
el ángel Gabriel a él vino en sueño:
“¡Cavalgad, Cid, el buen Campeador!
Ca nunqua | en tan buen punto cavalgó varón;
mientra que visquiéredes bien se fará lo to.”
Quando despertó el Cid, la cara se sanctigó,
sinava la cara, a Dios se acomendó,
mucho era pagado del sueño que á soñado.
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    Otro día mañana piensan de cavalgar,
és día á de plazo, sepades que non más.
A la sierra de Miedes ellos ivan posar.
    They can catch up, out in these fields, or else in some town.”
Then they loosened the reins and rode off:
There was little left of my Cid’s nine days.
He slept, that night, at Espinazo de Can—
Where many more men joined them, coming from all over.
They rode on, the next morning.
As my Cid was about to leave Castile, the homeland he loved,
San Esteban—a good-sized city—was on his left,
And on his right, the fortress walls of Moorish Ayllón.
He rode past Alcubilla, right on the borders of Castile,
Rode across Quinea, an ancient Roman road,
Crossing the Duero river at Navapalos,
Then stopped at Figueruela—and there more men
Came crowding into his army, coming from everywhere.
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    My Cid had his dinner, then lay down;
Falling deeply asleep, a sweet dream came to him,
In which the angel Gabriel appeared, and spoke:
“Go on, Cid, go on, you wonderful Warrior!
No man has ever come riding out at such a perfect moment:
For as long as you live, whatever you start will always end well.”
When he awoke, my Cid traced a cross over his forehead,
Then silently framed a thankful prayer to the Lord,
Pleased and encouraged by what his dream had brought him.
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    The next morning, they rode rapidly on,
Well aware that this was the very last of my Cid’s nine days.
They planned to stop at the high Sierra de Miedes,
Near the forts of Atienza, held by the Moors.
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    Aún era de día, non era puesto el sol,
mandó ver sus yentes Mio Cid el Campeador,
sin las peonadas e omnes valientes que son,
notó trezientas lanças que todas tienen pendones.
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    â€œTemprano dat cevada, ¡sí el Criador vos salve!
El qui quisiere comer; e qui no, cavalgue.
Passaremos la sierra que fıera es e grand,
la tierra del rrey Alfonso esta noch la podemos quitar;
después, qui nos buscare, fallarnos podrá.”
De noch passan la sierra, vinida es la man
e por la loma ayuso piensan de andar.
En medio d’una montaña maravillosa e grand
fızo Mio