English poem
THE BULL-FIGHT.
by Elizabeth Stoddard (1823–1902)
Eleven o'clock: Here are our cups of chocolate. Montez will fight the bulls to-day— All Madrid knows that: Queen Christina is going in state: Dolores will go with her little fan!
Lace up my shoe; Put on my Basquina; Can you see my black eyes? I am Manuel's duchess.
In front of the box of the Queen and the Duke Dolores sits, flirting her fan; The church of St. Agnes stands on the right, And its shadow falls on the picadors; On their lean steeds they prance in the ring, Hidalgo-fashion, their hands on their hips.
"Ha! Toro! Toro!" Hoh! the horses are gored; Now for the men. "Ha! Toro! Toro!" Every man over the barrier!
Not so; for there the bull-fighter stands; Some little applause from the royal box, And "Montez! Montez!" from a thousand throats!
The bull bows fine, though snorting with rage, His fore-leg makes little holes in the ground; But Montez stands still; his ribbons don't flutter! Saints, what a leap! His rosette is on the bull's black horn; Montez is pale; but his great eye shines When Dolores cries—"Kisses for Montez!" Fie! Manuel's duchess!
A minute longer the fight is done, The mule-bells tinkle, the bull rides off; Montez twirls a new diamond ring, And Dolores goes home for chocolate.