Hace mucho tiempo que tenía ganas de escribir cualquier cosa con este
título.
Hoy, que se me ha presentado ocasión, lo he puesto con letras grandes
en la primera cuartilla de papel, y luego he dejado á capriclio volar
la pluma.
Yo creo que he visto unos ojos como los que he pintado en esta
leyenda. No sé si en sueños, pero yo los he visto. De seguro no los
podré describir tales cuales ellos eran, luminosos, transparentes como
las gotas de la lluvia que se resbalan sobre las hojas de los árboles
después de una tempestad de verano. De todos modos, cuento con la
imaginación de mis lectores para hacerme comprender en este que
pudiéramos llamar boceto de un cuadro que pintaré algún dia.
I
--Herido va el ciervo, herido va; no hay duda. Se ve el rastro de la
sangre entre las zarzas del monte, y al saltar uno de esos lentiscos
han flaqueado sus piernas.... Nuestro joven señor comienza por donde
otros acaban ... en cuarenta años de montero no he visto mejor
golpe.... ¡Pero por San Saturio,[1] patrón de Soria![2] cortadle el
paso por esas carrascas, azuzad los perros, soplad en esas trompas
hasta echar los hígados, y hundidle á los corceles una cuarta de
hierro en los ijares: ¿no véis que se dirige hacia la fuente de los
Álamos,[3] y si la salva antes de morir podemos darle por perdido?
[Footnote 1: San Saturio. Saint Saturius was born, according to
Tamayo, in 493. In 532 he withdrew from the world into a cave at the
foot of a mountain bathed by the river Duero, near where now stands
the town of Soria. There he lived about thirty-six years, or until
568, when he died and was buried by his faithful disciple St.
Prudentius, later bishop of Tarazona, who had been a companion of
the hermit during the last seven years of his life. His cave is
still an object of pilgrimage, and a church has been built on the
spot to the memory of the saint. See Florez, _España_ Sagrada,
Madrid, 1766, tomo vii, pp. 293-294.]
[Footnote 2: Soria. A mediaeval-looking town of 7296 inhabitants
situated on a bleak plateau on the right bank of the Duero. It is
the capital of a province of the same name. The old town of Numantia
(captured by the Romans under P. Cornelius Scipio AEmilianus, 133
B.C.) lay about three miles to the north of the present site of
Soria.]
[Footnote 3: Álamos. The choice of a grove of poplars as setting to
the enchanted fount is peculiarly appropriate, as this tree belongs
to the large list of those believed to have magical properties. In
the south of Europe the poplar seems to have held sometimes the
mythological place reserved in the north for the birch, and the
people of Andalusia believe that the poplar is the most ancient of
trees. (See de Gubernatis, Za _Mythologie des plantes_, Paris,
Reinwald, 1882, p. 285.) In classical superstition the black poplar
was consecrated to the goddess Proserpine, and the white poplar to
Hercules. "The White Poplar was also dedicated to Time, because its
leaves were constantly in motion, and, being dark on one side and
light on the other, they were emblematic of night and day.... There
is a tradition that the Cross of Christ was made of the wood of the
White Poplar, and throughout Christendom there is a belief that the
tree trembles and shivers mystically in sympathy with the ancestral
tree which became accursed.... Mrs. Hemans, in her 'Wood Walk,' thus
alludes to one of these old traditions:
FATHER.--Hast thou heard, my boy,
The peasant's legend of that quivering tree?
CHILD.--No, father; doth he say the fairies dance
Amidst its branches?
FATHER.--Oh! a cause more deep,
More solemn far, the rustic doth assign
To the strange restlessness of those wan leaves.
The Cross he deems--the blessed Cross, whereon
The meek Redeemer bow'd His head to death--
Was formed of Aspen wood; and since that hour
Through all its race the pale tree hath sent down
A thrilling consciousness, a secret awe
Making them tremulous, when not a breeze
Disturbs the airy Thistle-down, or shakes
The light lines from the shining gossamer."