"Trăm năm trong cõi người ta, Chữ tài chữ mệnh khéo là ghét nhau. Trải qua một cuộc bể dâu, Những điều trông thấy mà đau đớn lòng. Lạ gì bỉ sắc tư phong, Trời xanh quen thói má hồng đánh ghen."

"It is unquestionably the oldest poem in the Spanish language. In my judgement, it is as decidedly and beyond all comparison the finest."

"Lengua sin manos, ¿cuémo osas fablar?"

"As the historian of manners, this poet, whose name unfortunately has perished, is the Homer of Spain."

"Créçem' el coraçón porque estades delant."

"A la madre e a las fijas bien las abraçava, del gozo que avién de los sos ojos lloravan, todas las sus mesnadas en grant deleit estavan, armas teniendo e tablados quebrantando. Oíd lo que dixo el que en buen ora nasco, "Vós, querida e ondrada mugier, e amas mis fijas, mi coraçón e mi alma, entrad comigo en Valençia la casa, en esta heredad que vos yo he ganada". Madre e fijas las manos le besavan, a tan grand ondra ellas a Valençia entravan."

"Los montes son altos, las ramas pujan con las núes."

"The Cid's speech at the Cortes is perfect eloquence of its kind. If it be remembered that all this was written in all probability before the year 1200..., I think it must be considered as one of the most curious and valuable specimens of early literature,— certainly as the most beautiful, beyond all comparison."

"Veriedes tantas lanças premer e alçar, tanta adágara foradar e passar, tanta loriga falsar e desmanchar, tantos pendones blancos salir vermejos en sangre, tantos buenos cavallos sin sos dueños andar. Los moros llaman "¡Mafómat!" e los christianos "¡Santi Yague!". Cayén por el campo en un poco de logar moros muertos mill e trezientos ya."

"Ant'el Campeador doña Ximena fincó los inojos amos, llorava de los ojos, quísol' besar las manos, "Merçed, Canpeador, en ora buena fuestes nado, por malos mestureros de tierra sodes echado. Merçed, ya Çid, barba tan complida, fem' ante vós, yo e vuestras fijas, ifantes son e de días chicas, con aquestas mis dueñas, de quien só yo servida. Yo lo veo, que estades vós en ida, e nós de vós partirnos hemos en vida, ¡Dandnos consejo, por amor de Santa María!" Enclinó las manos la barba vellida, a las sus fijas en braço las prendía, llególas al coraçón, ca mucho las quería, llora de los ojos, tan fuertemientre sospira, "Ya doña Ximena, la mi mugier tan complida, commo a la mi alma yo tanto vos quería. Ya lo vedes, que partirnos emos en vida, yo iré e vós fincaredes remanida. Plega a Dios e a Santa María, que aún con mis manos case estas mis fijas, o que dé ventura e algunos días vida, e vós, mugier ondrada, de mí seades servida.""

""Oíd, Minaya, sodes mio diestro braço: d'aquesta riqueza que el Criador nos á dado a vuestra guisa prended con vuestra mano. Embiarvos quiero a Castiella con mandado d'esta batalla que avemos arrancado; al rey Alfonso, que me á airado, quiérol' embiar en don treínta cavallos, todos con siellas e muy bien enfrenados, señas espadas de los arçones colgando". Dixo Minaya Álbar Fáñez: "Esto faré yo de grado"."

"Los ojos de Mío Cid mucho llanto van llorando; hacia atrás vuelve la vista y se quedaba mirándolos. Vió cómo estaban las puertas abiertas y sin candados, vacías quedan las perchas ni con pieles ni con mantos, sin halcones de cazar y sin azores mudados. Y habló, como siempre habla, tan justo y tan mesurado: "¡Bendito seas, Díos mío, Padre que estás en lo alto! Contra mí tramaron esto mis enemigos malvados.""

"Mío Çid Ruy Díaz por Burgos entrava, en su conpanna LX pendones. Exíenlo ver mugieres e varones, burgeses e burgesas por las finiestras son, plorando de los ojos tanto avíen el dolor. De las sus bocas todos dizían una rrazón: «¡Dios, qué buen vassalo! ¡Si oviesse buen sennor!» Conbidarle íen de grado mas ninguno non osava; el rrey don Alfonsso tanto avíe la grand sanna, antes de la noche en Burgos dél entró su carta con grand rrecabdo & fuertemientre sellada, a Mío Çid Ruy Díaz que nadi no l' diessen posada, aquel que ge la diesse sopiesse vera palabra que perderíe los averes & más los ojos de la cara e aun demás los cuerpos & las almas. Grande duelo avíen las yentes christianas; ascóndense de Mío Çid ca no l' osan dezir nada."

"Mucho creçen las nuevas de mio Çid el Campeador, bien casariemos con sus fijas pora huebos de pro, non la osariemos acometer nós esta razón, mio Çid es de Bivar e nós de los condes de Carrión."

"El Cantar es uno de esos libros que pocos conocen y la mayoría cree haber leído."

"For laws in great rebellions lose their end, And all go free when multitudes offend."

"By daring shows our greatest fears we hide."

"Guilt equal gives equality of state."

"Where kings prevail, all liberty is lost, And none but he who reigns can freedom boast; Some shadow of the bliss thou shalt retain, Choosing to do what sovereign powers ordain."

"At length his thoughts from arms and vengeance cease, And for a while revolve the arts of peace; Careful to purchase popular applause, And gain the vulgar to his cause, He knew the constant practice of the great, That those who court the vulgar bid them eat. When pinched with want all reverence they withdraw; For hungry multitudes obey no law: Thus therefore factions make their parties good, And buy authority and power with food."

"Heroic minds! that can even Fate command, And bid it wait upon a mortal hand; Who full of life forsake it as a feast, Take what they like, and give the gods the rest."

"Nor think such vulgar souls as yours were given To be the task of Fate and care of Heaven. Few are the lordly, the distinguished great, On whom the watchful gods, like guardians, wait; The rest for common use were all designed, An unregarded rabble of mankind."

"While fortune frowned, her fiercest wrath he bore; And while she smiled, enjoyed her amplest power: All various turns of good and bad he knew, And proved the most that chance or fate could do."

"Rage stays not to inquire who ought to die, Numbers must fall, no matter which or why."

"These were the stricter manners of the man, And this the stubborn course in which they ran: The golden mean unchanging to pursue, Constant to keep the purposed end in view; Religiously to follow nature's laws, And die with pleasure in his country's cause; To think he was not for himself designed, But born to be of use to all mankind. To him 'twas feasting, hunger to repress; And home-spun garments were his costly dress; No marble pillars reared his roof on high, 'Twas warm, and kept him from the winter sky."

"Thus fear does half the work of lying fame, And cowards thus their own misfortunes frame; By their own feigning fancies are betrayed, And groan beneath those ills themselves have made."

"If dying mortals' dooms they sing aright, No ghosts descend to dwell in dreadful night; No parting souls to grisly Pluto go, Nor seek the dreary, silent shades below: But forth they fly immortal in their kind, And other bodies in new worlds they find. Thus life for ever runs its endless race, And like a line, death but divides the space— A stop which can but for a moment last, A point between the future and the past. Thrice happy they beneath their northern skies, Who that worst fear, the fear of death, despise; Hence they no cares for this frail being feel, But rush undaunted on the pointed steel. Provoke approaching fate, and bravely scorn To spare that life which must so soon return."

"What means, ye gods, this changing in your doom? Freely you grant, but quickly you resume."