Of the ballads which contain this story, and which generally suppose the whole of it to have passed in one reign, though the Chronicle spreads it over three, none, perhaps, is finer than the one in which the Count de Saldaña, in his solitary prison, complains of his son, who, he supposes, must know his descent, and of his wife, the Infanta, who, he presumes, must be in league with her royal brother. After a description of the castle in which he is confined, the Count says:-- The tale of my imprisoned life Within these loathsome walls, Each moment, as it lingers by, My hoary hair recalls; For when this castle first I saw, My beard was scarcely grown, And now, to purge my youthful sins, Its folds hang whitening down. Then where art thou, my careless son? And why so dull and cold? Doth not my blood within thee run? Speaks it not loud and bold? Alas! it may be so, but still Thy mother’s blood is thine; And what is kindred to the king Will plead no cause of mine: And thus all three against me stand;-- For the whole man to quell, ’T is not enough to have our foes, Our heart’s blood must rebel. Meanwhile, the guards that watch me here Of thy proud conquests boast; But if for me thou lead’st it not, For whom, then, fights thy host? And since thou leav’st me prisoned here, In cruel chains to groan, Or I must be a guilty sire, Or thou a guilty son! Yet pardon me, if I offend By uttering words so free; For while oppressed with age I moan, No words come back from thee.[207] [207] Los tiempos de mi prision Tan aborrecida y larga, Por momentos me lo dizen Aquestas mis tristes canas. Quando entre en este castillo, Apenas entre con barbas, Y agora por mis pecados Las veo crecidas y blancas. Que descuydo es este, hijo? Como a vozes no te llama La sangre que tienes mia, A socorrer donde falta? Sin duda que te detiene La que de tu madre alcanças, Que por ser de la del Rey Juzgaras qual el mi causa. Todos tres sois mis contrarios; Que a un desdichado no basta Que sus contrarios lo sean, Sino sus propias entrañas. Todos los que aqui me tienen Me cuentan de tus hazañas: Si para tu padre no, Dime para quien las guardas? Aqui estoy en estros hierros, Y pues dellos no me sacas, Mal padre deuo de ser, O mal hijo pues me faltas. Perdoname, si te ofendo, Que descanso en las palabras, Que yo como viejo lloro, Y tu como ausente callas. Romancero General, 1602, f. 46. But it was printed as early as 1593.