GARCERAN.  In part, again, it was but natural.

KING.  That only which is right is natural. 
             And was I not a king, both just and mild—­
             The people’s idol and the nobles’, too? 
             Not empty-minded, no, and, sure, not blind! 
             I say, she was not fair!

GARCERAN.  How meanest, Sire?

KING.  An evil line on cheek and chin and mouth. 
             A lurking something in that fiery glance
             Envenom’d and disfigured all her charm. 
             But erst I’ve gazed upon it and compared. 
             When there I entered in to fire my rage,
             Half fearsome of the mounting of my ire,
             It happened otherwise than I had thought. 
             Instead of wanton pictures from the past,
             Before my eyes came people, wife, and child. 
             With that her face seemed to distort itself,
             The arms to rise, to grasp me, and to hold. 
             I cast her likeness from me in the tomb
             And now am here, and shudder, as thou seest.

But go thou now!  For, hast thou not betrayed me? 
Almost I rue that I must punish you. 
Go thither to thy father and those others—­
Make no distinction, ye are guilty, all.

MANRIQUE (with a strong voice).

And thou?

KING (after a pause).

The man is right; I’m guilty, too. 
But what is my poor land, and what the world,
If none are pure, if malefactors all! 
Nay, here’s my son.  Step thou within our midst! 
Thou shalt be guardian spirit of this land;
Perhaps a higher judge may then forgive. 
Come, Dona Clara, lead him by the hand! 
Benignant fortune hath vouchsafed to thee
In native freedom to pursue thy course
Until this hour; thou, then, dost well deserve
To guide the steps of innocence to us. 
But hold!  Here is the mother.  What she did,
She did it for her child.  She is forgiv’n!

[As the QUEEN steps forward and bends her knee.]

Madonna, wouldst thou punish me?  Wouldst show
The attitude most seeming me toward thee? 
Castilians all, behold!  Here is your King,
And here is she, the regent in his stead! 
I am a mere lieutenant for my son. 
For as the pilgrims, wearing, all, the cross
For penance journey to Jerusalem,
So will I, conscious of my grievous stain,
Lead you against these foes of other faith
Who at the bound’ry line, from Africa,
My people threaten and my peaceful land. 
If I return, and victor, with God’s grace,
Then shall ye say if I am worthy still
To guard the law offended by myself. 
This punishment be yours as well as mine,
For all of you shall follow me, and first,
Into the thickest squadrons of the foe. 
And he who falls does penance for us all. 
Thus do I punish you and me!  My son
Here place upon a shield, like to a throne,
For he today is King of this our land. 
So banded, then, let’s go before the folk.