Littell's Living Age/Volume 125/Issue 1609/Dom Doardos

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DOM DOARDOS.

The King said to the fair Infanta,
"Daughter! to the window flee;
I can hear the mermaids singing
In the midst of yonder sea."
"Father! they are not the mermaids
That you hear so sweetly sing;
But, my love, my Dom Doardos,
Calls the daughter of the King!"
"If, in sooth, 'tis Dom Doardos,
I will have his traitrous head."
"Father! if you kill my lover,
Let my blood be also shed."
So they slew young Dom Doardos
At the moonlight evening's close;
And the Infanta's head lay lowly
Ere the morning's sun arose.
One was buried in the chapel;
The other, near the portal fine.
An olive-tree grew from her body.
And from his a royal pine.
Thrives the one, and thrives the other;
And entwined their branches grow.
Then the father, fraught with anger,
Bids his woodman lay them low.
From the olive, milk flows gushing;
Royal blood bursts from the pine.
Then the Queen, with envy burning,
Has them cast into the brine.
Fishers seek the beach for treasure;
Empty nets bring prayer and plaint;
But they see a lovely chapel.
An altar, and an imaged saint.
Straight they call the priests together,
Call the priests from near and far.
That they may baptize the chapel
Sam Joam de Baixa-mar,[1]
And the saint upon the altar
Blessed Virgin do Pilar!
Soon the people thronged together,
And the King, among the crowd,
Struck with sorrow and repentance,
Smote his breast and wept aloud.
"Cease, dear father, cease your sorrow,
Dry your tears, and weep no more;
No earthly power can sever lovers
Joined by God forevermore."

From the Portuguese by Matther Lewtas in the Athenæum.

  1. St. John of the low tide.