Classic Poem

Bulls in Seville! Bulls in Seville!
Come the shouts and flutter white
Of the programmes they are selling
To the experts of the fight.
Bulls in Seville! Bulls in Seville!
Murmur, touching glass to glass,
All the patrons of the cafes
While the weekly journals pass.
Bulls in Seville! is the whisper
Of the damsel in her best;
Bulls in Seville! Bulls in Seville!
Says the grande dame with the rest.
Bulls in Seville! is the rumor
Of the palace and the slum;
Child and man and woman murmur
That the noisy feasts have come.
And the brilliant sun of Maytime
And the gentle airs of spring,
The aroma of the flowers
And the orange breaths that fling,
O'er the gracious Guadalquivir
Where the crystal waters shine
And the shadows from the Tower
On the surface rest benign.
Then the joyous festivation
Of the lofty bells is heard,
And Giralda, the most lovely,
Speaks the loudest, highest word
And it seems as if the message
" Bulls in Seville " is refrain
Of the very winds ablowing
Through the length and breadth of Spain.

2

Dandy dons his little jacket,
Ties his double sash around,
Whispering " Now for the Bull-ring! "
Breathless hurries to the ground.
With her light shawl of Manilla
Mariquita makes her fair;
Puts a spray or two of flowers
To give scent and deck her hair,
And she murmurs, — " To the Bull-ring! "
As she hurries from her door,
Down the crowded streets and plazas,
In her gladness brimming o'er.
All the city's throng is hasting
Through the quarter on its way;
Every breast a bursting brasier
With the gladness of the day.
" To the Bull-ring! To the Bull-ring! "
Every tear is brushed and dried.
" To the Bull-ring! To the Bull-ring! " —
The to-morrows put aside!

3

In the shining blue of heaven
Not the slightest cloud is seen;
Spring with every dower is filling
All the world with joys serene.
All the great arena glitters
'Mid the crowds awaiting there,
Like a mighty bee-hive buzzing
For the sport that would prepare.
All the women in the boxes
With their shining shawls of white;
And their raven hair agleaming
With carnations red and bright.
Here are all Triana's neighbors,
And from Macarena too;
Many from San Roque's parish,
And Calzada's not a few.
Here within the shade, awaiting
As in faculty of state,
All the bachelors and doctors
Of the bull-ring up-to-date.
All the bachelors and doctors
Who hold professorial seat
On the street where the Sierpes
And the proud Campana meet.
Friends are they to the bull-fighters;
They the fates to-day can spell;
When the others shout, they're hissing;
When the others hiss, they yell.
And the peddlars hurry calling,
" Water of Tomares, buy! " —
" Almond cakes of cinnamon! " —
" Hazel-nuts and seeds, who'll try! "
The President gives salutation;
The gates of entry fling ajar;
See, the cavaliers are coming,
With their coats that shine afar!
Lightly spur the alguaciles ,
Formal license to obtain,
Then return where their companions
Wait to start with all their train.
All the air with noise is ringing,
As the entrance march is heard,
And the bull-fighters are sighted
Through the gateway at the word.
" Blessed be thy mother, brave one! " —
" Mezquita, hail! " " Giralda hail! " —
" Let us see thee, Manuelo! " —
" Rafael, long may you prevail! " —
First of all the gallant cohort
You the matadors behold,
Covered with their silken mantles
And their garments wrought in gold.
Two by two, their distance keeping,
Banderilleros then advance
In their little capes distinguished
By the people at a glance.
Then upon their Baviecas
Come the picadors along,
With their monkey-like retainers
And their badges in a throng.
And the mules are driven after,
Gay with all their fringe and bells;
Red and yellow in their ribbons, —
Nought their sorry duty tells.
Then the sounding of the trumpets,
Warns that the great bull arrives;
Bellowing the mighty monster
Down the sandy circle drives.
Lighter than the snake or lizard
Through the ranks of lads he goes,
While the crowd is growing frantic, —
" Let them catch him! " shouts arose. —
" Good for that veronica , bully! " —
" Bravo, that navarra's fine! "
" Hurra for the Rondena method. —
Sturdy foot and fearless sign! — "
Picadores! Picadores!
To your work, the bull is hot!
Good defence! But hold you steady!
He has not discharged his shot!
" On the sand a fighter's lying! " —
" Is he injured? " — " Not at all! "
Picadores! Picadores!
" There's another! — God, we call! " —
" Senor President, I offer
Toasts for you and all the band!
Toasts for all the strangers present!
Toasts for all from Seville grand!
Toasts for those who die in Cuba,
Fighting there the war for Spain!
Toasts for all the lovely ladies!
And the gentlemen again! " —
Then the matador arises,
Seeks the bull at last grown still;
Fixes 'twixt the horns and forehead
His red point designed to kill.
Allos three, two naturales
One de pecho that's for grace,
Muttering, — " Here's to your worships! "
Stabs the blade unto its place.
And the bull in anguish rocking,
Hears the victor shouts around,
Mingling with the burst of music
And the clapping hands that sound.
While the public in its frenzy
Flings both hat and parasol,
Walking stick and cloak and jacket,
To the matador's control. —
Then another bull, another,
Other horses, other cries!
On the sands a fresher blood-stain,
On the benches other sighs!
For the afternoon is closing
And the hollow night is near;
All the joy of day is over,
And the plaza dark and drear.
Whither goest? To the Bull-ring! —
Gaily Hope doth make reply.
Whence art coming? — From the Bull-ring!
Sad reality doth sigh.
To the Bull-ring! From the Bull-ring! —
Thus it is we live and die!