220 RAMBLES OF A NATURALIST. 



those natural airs which are called sorsicos. The 

 least event is often made the theme of a song, which 

 circulates through all the neighbouring district, and 

 this often becomes a very formidable weapon, which 

 serves to punish many small misdemeanours. For 

 example, every betrayed or deceived lover composes 

 a song on the conduct of his mistress, and for some 

 time she can scarcely appear abroad without hearing 

 her infidelities warbled aloud by every mischievous 

 urchin whom she encounters. This abundance of 

 compositions has perhaps a special inconvenience of 

 its own, for the latest productions soon obliterate the 

 older ones, and of the many songs which were trans- 

 lated to me, there was only one which presented 

 true characters of antiquity.* At the present day 



* I have thought that my readers might be interested in becoming 

 acquainted with this ballad, which I first communicated to my 

 learned confrere, M. Ampere, and which was judged worthy of 

 being introduced into the Recueil des Chants nationaux published by 

 the Government. The translation was given to me by the woman 

 who sung it. 



The Maiden of Santa Clara. 



" Although no hand of man has touched them, the church bells of 

 Ataratz are tolling mournfully. To-morrow departs the maid of 

 Santa Clara. Great and small are mourning, for to-morrow departs 

 the maid of Santa Clara. Gold is gleaming on her saddle, and 

 silver is shining on the trappings of her steed. 



" My father, thou hast sold me into Spain, as though I were a cow. 

 If my mother had been alive as thou art, my father, I should never 

 have gone to Spain, but I should have been wedded within the 

 castle gates of Ataratz. 



" At the castle of Ataratz two oranges are blooming, and many 

 have come to beg them of the Lord of Ataratz. But the answer 

 has always been that the oranges were not yet ripe. 



