Thou scatterest wounds, but, ah, the balm To heal them dost withhold! Say, valiant youth, and so may God Thy enterprises speed, Didst thou the light mid Libya’s sands Or Jaca’s rocks first see? Did scaly serpents give thee suck? Who nursed thee when a babe? Wert cradled in the forest rude, Or gloomy mountain cave? O Dulcinea may be proud, That plump and lusty maid; For she alone hath had the power A tiger fierce to tame. And she for this shall famous be From Tagus to Jarama, From Manzanares to Genil, From Duero to Arlanza. Fain would I change with her, and give A petticoat to boot, The best
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