The Siege of Numantia Page #4

The Siege of Numantia is a tragedy by Miguel de Cervantes set at the siege of Numantia. The play is divided into four acts. The dialogue is sometimes in tercets and sometimes in redondillas, but for the most part in octaves.

• History

								

      And that rich bloom which on your cheeks is seen,
      Ye seem to have been reared at British fires,
      And drawn your parentage from Flemish sires.
      My friends, this wide-spread languor and decay,
      Which for yourselves hath borne such bitter fruit,
      Nerves up your fallen foes to sterner fray,
      And brings to nought your valour and repute.
      This city's walls, that stand as firm to-day
      As battled rock, are witnesses to boot
      How all your native strength hath turned to shame,
      And bears no stamp of Roman but the name.
      Seems it, my sons, a manly thing to own,
      That when the Roman name towers far and wide,
      Within the land of Spain yourselves alone
      Should humble it and level down its pride?
      What feebleness is this, so strangely grown?
      What feebleness? If I may now decide,
      It is a feebleness loose living breeds--
      The mortal enemy of manly deeds.
      Soft Venus ne'er with savage Mars did start
      A paction firm and stable at the core:
      She follows pleasures; he pursues the art
      That leads to hardships, and to fields of gore.
      So let the Cyprian goddess now depart,
      And let her son frequent this camp no more;
      For he whose life in revelling is spent
      Is badly lodged within a martial tent.
      Think ye, the battering-ram with iron head
      Will of itself break down the battled wall?
      Or crowds of armèd men and armour dread
      Suffice alone the foemen to appal?
      If dauntless strength be not with prudence wed,
      Which plans with wisdom and provides for all,
      But little fruit will mighty squadrons yield,
      Or heaps of warlike stores upon the field.
      Let but the smallest army join as one
      In bonds of martial law, as strict as pure,
      Then will ye see it, radiant as the sun,
      March where it will to victory secure.
      But let an army manly courses shun,
      Were it a world itself in miniature,
      Soon will its mighty bulk be seen to reel
      Before the iron hand, and breast of steel.
      Ye well may be ashamed, ye men of might,
      To see how these few Spaniards, sore distressed,
      With haughty spirit, and to our despite,
      Defend with vigour their Numantian nest.
      Full sixteen years[4] and more have taken flight,
      And still they struggle on, and well may jest
      At having conquered with ferocious hands,
      And kept at bay, our countless Roman bands.
      Self-conquered are ye; for beneath the sway
      Of base lascivious vice ye lose renown,
      And while with love and wine ye sport and play,
      Ye scarce have strength to take your armour down.
      Blush then with all your might, as well ye may,
      To see how this poor little Spanish town
      Bids bold defiance to the Roman host,
      And smites the hardest when beleaguered most.
      At every hazard let our camp be freed,
      And cleanly purged of that vile harlot race,
      Which are the root and cause, in very deed,
      Why ye have sunk into this foul disgrace.
      One drinking-cup, no more, is all ye need;
      And let your lecherous couches now give place
      To those wherein of yore ye slept so sound--
      The homely brushwood strewn upon the ground.
      Why should a soldier reek of odours sweet,
      When scent of pitch and resin is the best?
      Or why have kitchen-things to cook his meat,
      To give withal his squeamish stomach zest?
      The warrior, who descends to such a treat,
      Will hardly bear his buckler on the breast;
      For me all sweets and dainties I disdain,
      While in Numantia lives one son of Spain.
      Let not, my men, this stern and just decree
      Of mine appear to you as harshly meant;
      For in the end its profit ye will see
      When ye have followed it with good intent.
      'Tis passing hard to do, I well agree,
      To give your habits now another bent;
      But if ye change them not, then look for war
      More terrible than this affront by far.
      From downy couches and from wine and play
      Laborious Mars is ever wont to fly;
      He seeks some other tools, some other way,
      Some other arms to raise his standard high.
      Not luck nor hazard here have any sway,
      Each man is master of his destiny;
      'Tis sloth alone that evil fortune breeds,
      But patient toil to rule and empire leads.
      Though this I say, so sure am I withal
      That now at last ye'll act as Romans do,
      That I do hold as nought the armèd wall
      Of these rude Spaniards, a rebellious crew.
      By this right hand I swear before you all,
      That if your hands be to your spirits true,
      Then mine with recompense will open wide,
      And this my tongue shall tell your deeds with pride.

            [The soldiers glance at one another, and make signs to
                one of them, CAIUS MARIUS, who replies for all, and
                thus says:

CAIUS MARIUS.

      If thou hast marked, and with attentive eye,
      Illustrious Commander of this force,
      The upturned faces of the standers-by,
      While listening to thy brief and grave discourse,
      From some must thou have seen the colour fly,
      In others deepen, stung with quick remorse;
      Plain proof that fear and shame have both combined
      To trouble and perplex each soldier's mind.
      Shame--to behold the abject, low estate
      On which with self-abasement they must look,
      Without one plea defensive to abate
      The wholesome rigour of thy stern rebuke;
      Fear--at the dire results of crimes so great;
      And that vile sloth, whose sight they cannot brook,
      Affects them so, that they would rather die
      Than wallow longer in its misery.
      But place and time remaineth to them still
      To make some slight atonement for this wrong;
      And this is reason why such flagrant ill
      Doth twine around them with a bond less strong.
      So from to-day, with prompt and ready will,
      The very meanest of our warlike throng
      Will place without reserve, as is most meet,
      Their goods and life and honour at thy feet.
      Receive with right good-will, O master mine,
      This fitting gift their better minds supply,
      And think them Romans of the ancient line,
      In whom the manly spirit cannot die.
      My comrades, raise your right hands as a sign
      That ye approve this pledge as well as I.

Soldiers.

      What thou hast said for us we all declare,
      And swear to keep our promise.

All.

      Yes, we swear.

SCIPIO.

      In such a pledge new confidence I find
      This war with greater vigour to pursue,
      While glowing ardour burns in every mind
      To change the old life and begin the new.
      Let not your promise whistle down the wind,
      But let your lances prove it to be true,
      For mine with truth and clearness shall be shown,
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