Daughter of a general – carabí, hurí, hurá!"
The song goes on to tell of Elisa's beautiful hair, which her aunt dressed so gently for her with a golden comb and crystal curling-pins, and how Elisa died and was carried to church in an elegant coffin, and how a little bird used to perch upon her grave and chirp, pio, pio.
Mambrú himself is the pathetic hero of Spanish childhood. This Mambrú for whom the little ones from Aragon to Andalusia pipe so many simple elegies, the Mambrú sung by Trilby, is not the English Marlborough to them, but, be he lord or peasant, one of their very own.
"Mambrú is gone to serve the king,
And comes no more by fall or spring.
"We've looked until our eyes are dim.
Will no one give us word of him?
"You'd know him for his mother's son
By peasant dress of Aragon.
"You'd know him for my husband dear
By broidered kerchief on his spear.
"The one I broider now is wet.
Oh, may I see him wear it yet!"
At the end of this song, as of the following, the little dancers throw themselves on the ground, as if in despair.
"Mambrú went forth to battle.
Long live Love!
I listen still for his coming feet.
The rose on the rose bush blossoms sweet.
"He will come back by Easter.
Long live Love!
He will come back by Christmas-tide.
The rose on the bush has drooped and died.
"Down the road a page is riding.
Long live Love!
'Oh, what are the tidings that you bear?'
The rose on the bush is budding fair.
"'Woe is me for my tidings!'
Long live Love!
'Mambrú lies cold this many a morn.'
Ay, for a rose bush sharp with thorn!
"A little bird is chirping.
Long live Love!
In the withered bush where no more buds blow,
The bird is chirping a note of woe."
A game that I often watched blithe young Granadines playing under the gray shadow of Alhambra walls, seems to be a Spanish version of "London Bridge is Falling Down." Two children are chosen to be Rose and Pink. These form an arch with their uplifted arms, through which run the other children in a line, headed by the Mother. A musical dialogue is maintained throughout.
"Rose and Pink.
To the viper of love, that hides in flowers,
The only way lies here.
Mother.
Then here I pass and leave behind
One little daughter dear.
Rose and Pink.
Shall the first one or the last
Be captive of our chain?
Mother.
Oh, the first one runs too lightly.
'Tis the last that shall remain.
Chorus.
Pass on, oho! Pass on, aha!
By the gate of Alcalá!"
The last child is caught by the falling arms and is asked whether she will go with Rose or Pink. She shyly whispers her choice, taking her stand behind her elected leader, whom she clasps about the waist. When all the children of the line have been successively caught in the falling arch, and have taken their places behind either Rose or Pink, the game ends in a grand tugging match. Rose and Pink hold hands as long as they can, while the two lines try to drag them apart. All the while, until the very last, the music ripples on: —
"Rose and Pink.
Let the young mind make its choice,
As young minds chance to think.
Now is the Rose your leader,
Or go you with the Pink?
Let the young heart make its choice
By laws the young heart knows.
Now is the Pink your leader,
Or go you with the Rose?
Chorus.
Pass on, oho! Pass on, aha!
By the gate of Alcalá!"
Another favorite is "Golden Ear-rings." Here the Mother, this time a Queen, sits in a chair, supposedly a throne, and close before her, on the floor, sits the youngest daughter; before this one, the next youngest, and so on, in order of age. Two other children, holding a handkerchief by the corners, walk up and down the line, one on one side and one on the other, so passing the handkerchief above the heads of the seated princesses. Then ensues the musical dialogue between these two suitors and the Queen.
"'We've come from France, my lady,
And Portugal afar.
We've heard of your fair daughters,
And very fair they are.'
'Be they fair or no, señores,
It's none of your concern,
For God has given me bread for all,
And given me hands to earn.'
'Then we depart, proud lady,
To find us brides elsewhere.