Que mal pensatis el moro

From Arboleras Vol. 2 - Romances Sefardies Tradicion Oral

Here we find a common occurance, a fusion of two romances, both from the French epic tradition, El cautiverio de Guarinos, lines 1-10, and El sueño de Doña Alda until the end. The name Doña Alda allows for the chaining of the two. The first tells of the divine denial of a Christian captive by the Moors to be converted to Islam and the second of the Doña Alda’s premonitory dream of the death of her husband.

Text:
Que mal pensatis el moro, mal se vos hizo pensare:
quebratis obra del Causo, matates a doce frailes;
cautivates a Rondale, almirante de la mare,
no le cativó ninguno, que él se vino a presentare,
Quebrado se le ha la espada en meatad del guerreare,
siete duques echan suertes por ver cuál o ha de matare.
Todos dicen a una boca: -Bien se haga, bien se os hagare!
Deiaris la ley de Cristo, la del morito tomares.
-No lo permita ninguno, no lo permita Dios Padre,
que en Paris tenga a doña Alda, mi esposita naturale.
Las cien damas son con ella, todas de alto y buen linaje,
las cien bordaban en seda, las cien bordaban sedale,
las cien tocaban vigüela para doña Alda folgare.
-Y un sueño soñe, mis dueñas, que sueño tan espantable!
toda la aue me lo aclare buen marido- la he de dare,
y las que no lo sabían, que se aparten a un luquare.
Todas dicen a una boca: -Bien se haga, bien se os hagare!
Por aquí' cijal de arriba negra garza vide entrare
en el pico trae plumas, en el cuerpo trae sangre
-La garza, la mi señora, es vuestra suegra reale,
Las plumas, la mi señora, la gente que con él trae:
vendrá Rondan de la guerra, contigo se ha de casare
Ellos en estas palabras, un paje a la puerta bate.
-Que noticias traes, paje, oh, qué noticias nos traes?
-La noticia que te traigo no vo la quisiera dare:
que a las primeras batallas mataron a don Rondale.
Esto que oyó doña Alda muerta quedó en su luguare.

Translation:
How badly the Moor has thought, badly has he made his plan:
you have broken the work of Heaven, you have killed twelve friars;
you have captured Rondale, admiral of the sea,
none took him captive, for he came of his own will.
His sword was broken in the midst of the fighting,
seven dukes drew lots to see who would kill him.
All said with one voice: “Let it be done, so may it be done!”
You’ll leave the law of Christ, and take that of the little Moor.
“May none allow it, may God the Father not permit it,
for in Paris I have Doña Alda, my true wife.
A hundred ladies are with her, all of noble and high lineage,
a hundred embroidering in silk, a hundred weaving fine thread,
a hundred playing the viol to make Doña Alda rejoice.
And I dreamed a dream, my ladies, such a fearful dream!
Whoever can interpret it well, to her I’ll give a good husband;
and those who do not know it, let them step aside.”
All said with one voice: “Let it be done, so may it be done!”
From the upper window I saw a black heron enter,
in its beak it bore feathers, on its body it bore blood.
“The heron, my lady, is your royal mother-in-law,
the feathers, my lady, the people that come with him:
Rondan will return from the war, and he shall marry you.”
While they spoke these words, a page knocked at the door.
“What news do you bring, page, oh, what news do you bring?”
“The news I bring, lady, I wish I did not bring:
for in the first battles they killed Don Rondale.”
When Doña Alda heard this, she fell dead where she stood.