Captain Ortis' Booty
"Sire, as you please," the governor said,
"Only King Philip's edict read——"
"Alva spoke! What is king or Cortes?
Open the portals," cried Captain Ortis.
"Loose the prisoners, set them free.
Only—each pays a ransom-fee!"
Out, be sure, poured the gold in buckets,
Piles on piles of broad Flanders ducats.
Ay, there followed not gold alone;
Men and women and children, thrown
In chains to perish, came out forgiven—
Saw light, friends' faces, and thought it heaven.
Out they staggered, so halt and blind
From rack and darkness, they scarce could find
The blessèd gate where daughter and mother.
Father and brother, all found each other.
"Freedom! Our darlings! Let God be praised!"
So cried all; then said one, amazed,
"Who is he, under Heaven, that gave us
Thought and pity? who cared to save us?"
"Captain Ortis" (the answer ran),
"The Spanish Lancer; here's the man.
Ay, but don't kill him with too much caressing;
Death's a sour salad with sweetest dressing."
Danger, indeed; for never hath been
In brave old Antwerp such a scene.
Boldest patriot, fairest woman.
Blessing him, knelt to the Spanish foeman.
Ortis looted his prize of gold,
And yet, I think, if the truth be told,
He found, when the ducats were gone with the pleasure.
That heretic blessing a lasting treasure.
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