The more attractive passages of the Chronicle, however, are its long narratives. They are also the most poetical;--so poetical, indeed, that large portions of them, with little change in their phraseology, have since been converted into popular ballads;[246] while other portions, hardly less considerable, are probably derived from similar, but older, popular poetry, now either wholly lost, or so much changed by successive oral traditions, that it has ceased to show its relationship with the chronicling stories to which it originally gave birth. Among these narrative passages, one of the most happy is the history of Bernardo del Carpio, for parts of which the Chronicle appeals to ballads more ancient than itself, while to the whole, as it stands in the Chronicle, ballads more modern have, in their turn, been much indebted. It is founded on the idea of a poetical contest between Bernardo’s loyalty to his king, on the one side, and his attachment to his imprisoned father, on the other. For he was, as we have already learned from the old ballads and traditions, the son of a secret marriage between the king’s sister and the Count de Sandias de Saldaña, which had so offended the king, that he kept the Count in prison from the time he discovered it, and concealed whatever related to Bernardo’s birth; educating him meantime as his own son. When, however, Bernardo grew up, he became the great hero of his age, rendering important military services to his king and country. “But yet,” according to the admirably strong expression of the old Chronicle,[247] “when he knew all this, and that it was his own father that was in prison, it grieved him to the heart, and his blood turned in his body, and he went to his house, making the greatest moan that could be, and put on raiment of mourning, and went to the King, Don Alfonso. And the king, when he saw it, said to him, ‘Bernardo, do you desire my death?’ for Bernardo until that time had held himself to be the son of the King, Don Alfonso. And Bernardo said, ‘Sire, I do not wish for your death, but I have great grief, because my father, the Count of Sandias, lieth in prison, and I beseech you of your grace that you would command him to be given up to me.’ And the King, Don Alfonso, when he heard this, said to him, ‘Bernardo, begone from before me, and never be so bold as to speak to me again of this matter; for I swear to you, that, in all the days that I shall live, you shall never see your father out of his prison.’ And Bernardo said to him, ‘Sire, you are my king, and may do whatsoever you shall hold for good, but I pray God that he will put it into your heart to take him thence; nevertheless, I, Sire, shall in no wise cease to serve you in all that I may.’”