Alonso Gregorio de Escobedo, O.F.M. La Florida [ca. 1590-1610].

Please do not reproduce without permission. The following is a draft translation, prepared by Thomas Hallock, in support of The Epic of Florida: Selected Poems by Juan de Castellanos, Bartolomé de Flores, and Alonso Gregorio de Escobedo (Pennsylvania State University Press, 2026).

Canto 30. The enemy took off towards the Spanish armada, which had taken safe harbor, and the French landed on the coast, where General Menendez killed two thousand Frenchmen. He brought to court three chief, who became Christians.

 

What purpose does an earthly treasure serve

the thief, when he holds in his possession

a store that is, by Divine Law condemned,

that is without any restitution?

His soul will pay with the eternal fires,

burning for all time in the pits of Hell,

because God will never forgive the sins

such as those committed by Jean Ribault.

 

If Ribault had held to the divine law,

had he not occupied these western lands

and stolen gold, as he was so inclined,

Jesus still would have protected his soul.

Lack of principal ruined him. He cared

naught for the harm he did to the Indians,

people who had their own furrows to plow.

 

But because this Frenchman was a pirate,

and one who was a thief by trade, he put

himself in the position where he could

do the greatest harm to our own people.

Ribault was one who lived in contrary

to all good, and with notorious vice

and with the absence of God in his life,

he lost the clear and true heavenly light.

 

After our nobles, sailing from the East,

accomplished their immortal deeds, stripping

and dispossessing the French of their fort,

it remained for them to claim the treasures

that were heroically won for the King;

the opulent regal banners were hung

from the high points of the castle and men

were stationed there to keep the fort secure.

 

Meanwhile the others went back down the trail,

guided by the Indian who had been paid,

but who also had proven himself to

be their friend through this honorable task.

and who had been paid his noble work

And after crossing the great river of Saint

Augustine,[1] they were ordered to split up,

to see if the winds had fatefully blown

onto the coast the men who stole from them.

 

Our people stomped their feet onto dry ground

and marched along the coast, until they reached

a post where the river surrounded them

and flowed into salt water. God had left

the French here, for the Spanish to wage war;

Jean Ribault would pay for what he had done

losing not only his strong armada

but also his precious pearl of freedom.

 

General Menéndez was overseeing

his army from the beach on the western

shore, and when he saw the French wandering

along the coast, he corrected his course,

bravely and loudly shouting, “I command

you to shift direction. Make a forced march

from this crescent beach to the higher hill

to establish a secure position.

 

Walk quickly, keeping under the cover

of the undergrowth, and with God in Heaven

as my witness, we shall soon see whether

we have the necessary strength or not;

General Ribault is sure feel distress

when he realizes our courage, and when

he catches sight of our country’s flags

planted here and fluttering in the wind.

 

I trust in God that my preparations

and keen-edged strategy will be enough

to snap the neck of the arrogant French

and wipe the fleur-de-lis from their banners.

With the eastern, Levantine winds having

tamed these men of their arrogance, for sure

I will win the victory, and we will

give to God all our honor and glory.

 

And may this enemy, from his position

along the shoreline now pay for his sins,

to be broken beyond recognition

never returning to the field of battle.

Here he stands to lose what he has stolen

from the Spanish. Everything. First to last.

And here, in God I trust, under your strong

arm and my own, he will give up his life.”

 

Oh, fickle fortune! Who could have predicted

that three days before today, the fury

of gale-force winds would have swept a mighty

armada to the shore, splintering their ships.

Oh, you vain Frenchman! Did you consider

how your infernal and unbridled greed,

how your envy and animosity,

how your sins, would be punished by this storm?

 

Jean Ribault was in the field of battle

drying out his muskets and gunpowder,

when Menéndez, the Spanish general arrived,

He thought about Ribault’s ruin and fall.

Now our people were already marching

into battle, flags wind in the wind;

Ribault expressed his disgust at the sight,

although he remained strong and resolute.

 

As Menéndez boldly addressed Ribault:

“Although you are my enemy, I feel

sympathy in my soul, for with your people

you are lost on this beach without shelter.

Be valiant, and show gratitude to me,

bow yourself humbly in obedience

and I will treat you as I would a friend,

by providing you passage back to France.

 

“If I regret see you now defeated,

it would be because of your surrender,

which does not let me claim victory;

with no vanquishing I claim no glory.

I well remember how I promised that

you would be given passage, allowing

you and your soldiers to return to France

as long as you remained obedient.”

 

Jean Ribault trusted the Asturian,

and not seeing any change in him,

this promise having come from a Christian,

Ribault took Menéndez at his word.

With no other options, besides, and death

being this close, he recognized that

surrender as his best and only chance —

with no other recourse, he played his hand.

 

Everything was taken care of for him:

he was to be given food and passage

to take him out of Florida and back

to France, to appear before the King.

This regal clemency satisfied him.

Ribault and his people had been given

a new day; failing to hold up his end,

however, the traitor was put to death.

 

The general to the French king promised

peace with the Spanish. But not after taking

ten steps from him did the Frenchman rebel,

raising his sharp-edged sword with his right hand,

believing with tremendous arrogance

that his surrender to the Asturian

Menéndez was not needed, not with

the soldiers in his army watching on.

 

Swinging like a boom around the mast,[2]

Ribault turned, trying to kill Menéndez,

but Menéndez was aware of the French

around him and had remained vigilant.

Such things pass with our nation, unique and rare:

in the face of opponents, yes, we awake,

showing our valor, on this occasion,

and taking the broad sword in our right hand.

 

The command was given to enter battle,

and even while the enemy had more troops,

our courageous forces broke the line,

dissolving their defense with few men;

it was hard to tell who was on which side,

but death was brought to the one who had been

previously left to live, a traitorous

criminal and thug, now rightly murdered.

 

The waters of the Occident, or West,

were soon stained crimson with the human blood

of the many French who died in battle,

and a few of our own Castilian troops.

Wielding a two-handed broadsword in battle

the courageous and competent General,

Pedro Menéndez, achieved such feats that

ferocious Mars himself would have envied.

 

In the end the French surrendered to our men,

and had their hands bound up. Stripped of their swords,

which were useless to them, they cried and moaned,

clearly and distinctly understanding

that they would never return to their home,

that they were now left to the disposal

of the more powerful Spanish general,

who had every right to show his fury.

 

Following the orders of Menéndez,

the prisoners were forced to start walking

in groups of six, with two experienced

Spanish soldiers marching along the side.

“Keep them closely guarded in the middle,”

he said, “allowing for no disorder.

I will go ahead to our armada,

where they will be given their last supper.”

 

Menéndez then called upon a captain

who was as brave as he, someone known as

Vincent el animoso,[3] the brave one —

known for his selfless service to the King.

Menéndez granted Vincent the honorable

duty of executing right justice

to those who had stolen from travelers

and who rightly deserved a painful death.

 

Choosing a captain for accompaniment,

Menéndez proceeded ahead, speaking

with the great warrior, Jean Ribault,

who at that moment had lost his power.

And Menéndez said to his two men: “Keep

everything quiet and encourage them;

I will draw a line on the beach, and at

that place, Jean Ribault shall be put to death.

 

“Be sure that my command is known by all,

and because our people know the story.

Show great care and display due diligence.

The braggart Frenchmen and his troops shall pay

for their unrestrained insolence with their lives:

I am outraged, and at this place, I will

deliver to them the death they deserve.

 

With an azcona, or small lance, in his

right hand, our Asturian Menéndez

proceeded to draw a line in the sand,

proclaiming and delivering a sentence

of death. The French general watched and noted

what the brave Castilian, now his captor,

was doing, and noted that the promised

actions were now to be executed.

 

“Señor Ribault, mark this line in the sand:

I have been ordered to kill you, or face

punishment myself for not doing so

by a firm, powerful, unyielding hand.

This sentence has been ordered against you

by an unlucky turn of fate, and now

you have no appeal left to make on earth,

you can only plead to God in the sky.

 

When Ribault considered the Spaniard’s

proposal, his face lost all its color;

fear has this way of transforming even

the most skillful, brave and courageous man.

And being himself a man of honor,

Vincente, the man chosen for the task,

executed the punishment, with such

effect as one would ordinarily expect.

 

From the dagger dug into his strong chest,

the blood ran along the beach, past the line

that Menéndez had drawn in the dry sand,

leaving the rabid Ribault by the sea.

And the Castilians took satisfaction

as a bitter and painful end was brought,

as death was delivered to the soldiers

who fought as well under Ribault’s command.

 

The Spanish claimed victory over the French,

who were stripped of their navy, then their

breath, and the memory will live forever —

these famous events that I here recount,

to God we now sing the honor and praise,

for sending winds from the Levante, or East,

so our people could cleanse these western lands.

 

The General remained, staying to patrol

la Florida, where the wretched people

lived without clothing, naked, dressed only

in the contempt of God, the First Mover;

they were idle not taking on the

They were bereft, not living the Good Life,

but through the Spanish nation’s victory,

they took the yoke of the Roman shepherd.

 

God brought to them Topique, a noble chief

with great wealth, a friend from western lands,

and Topique brought two other chiefs with him–

these three all proving to be welcoming.

In Spain they were given splendid shelter

and favor from Philip, the Austrian,

King of Spain and the New World, one without

any second, noble, discreet and wise.

 

In satisfaction and peace these Indians

received the divine rite of baptism,

given by the priests of our sainted church

and planting the seeds of faith in their souls.

There was no lack of courteous gentlemen

who came to see what our omnipotent

God had sown in the fertile, remote

fields of the Western or Occidental lands.

 

Menéndez carried an official

decree that was signed and sealed, the red wax

pressed with the cross of Christ, designating

him as the marques of all Florida.

He had set out upon this new journey

with this blessing from the enlightened king,

an instrument that served not only here

on earth but above, as well, in heaven.

 

As soon as the brave Asturian

Menéndez touched his feet upon the sand,

he brought a new day to la Florida;

the famed army of Christian soldiers

had fastened the hard bridle, reign and bit

to the seditious Indians, who were

before unconquered and who from their coasts,

would treasonously steal from our fleets.

 

And so upon the King’s command they made

a fortification in Florida.

Given how the French pirates had come there,

and how the Spanish quickly kicked them out,

three hundred men would now be stationed there,

to exercise the bravery of Mars–

Castilian soldiers who were paid to stay,

administered by Mexican accounts.

 

The Christian chiefs were also given leave

to return to their own villages

and bring to the once blind people the light

of faith that the chiefs themselves had received.

Throughout this land, they remained at peace,

serving under God, their holy North star–

until a Castilian man was killed,

ambassador to the Christian general.

 

When the bold Menéndez first heard the news,

he ordered the three insolent Indians

to be brought to trial, so they would receive

the punishment they deserved. And so

the living would also receive the chance

to see for themselves the consequences

of depriving a Spaniard of his life,

of killing a Castilian in cold blood.

 

It fell upon the Lusitanian Vicente Gonzalez, to carry out

the command: the Portuguese captain should

raise his sword with a strong and dexterous hand,

to end the life of the three Indians

and so he moved beyond the Spanish line,

boarding one of the navy’s light vessels,

with fifteen soldiers in the boat’s galley

rowing the oars towards the Indian’s side.

 

With haste the soldiers launched their boat into

the thrashing gulf,[4] filed with desire to punish

anyone who had the insane desire

of claiming a trophy of war from them.

The Spaniards set out against an infamous

group of people, a king who took justice

into his own hands, and who would himself

pick a fight with the ferocious Mars.

 

Thirty-five of our most noblest men, who

had sailed from the east lands, boarded

boarded our Castilian boat, commanded

by a courageous and righteous captain

with a Lusitanian lineage and home —

these valiant young soldiers, these brave people

served as defenders of our Christian faith

and each of them swore to lose their own life

in challenging the murderous Indian.

 

And as the King’s boat approached the island

of Guale, two thousand Indians emerged

from the earth, showing their full strength in war

and exercising their savage power;

but our captain displayed his great brio

and banished all fears within his squadron,

saying to his men: “be not afraid, brave

soldiers, seeing these infidels stirred up.”

 

Several villages launched their resistance:

the Spanish infantry fired against them

holding up against an enemy

who was showering them with arrows.

As was their usual custom, the faithful

killed a thousand Indians on that day,

and the blood of the infidel tyrants

ran like an offering into the sea.

 

The captain gave an order to his men:

“Note the canoe that swiftly approaches,

enflamed with rage, they intend to ram us,

but do not shoot until they fire first.”

And as the diligent squadron approached

and the Indian captain was in sight,

he asked for permission to board our boat,

seeking entry upon this valiant ship.

 

More than fifty Indians came forward,

determined to kill the Spanish soldiers,

but it will be the wicked and brave man

who is to suffer from the confident one:

Our soldiers prepared food for a welcome,

pretending they were not angry at all,

setting up a trap for the traitors who

approached their boat with every bad intent.

 

The captain said to the men by his side:

“Pay close attention. The came to kill us,

and when I say to you ‘now is the time,’

kill them — as they themselves had intended.

When the exact moment comes and I give

my signal, take heed. At that point we will

show these treacherous traitors the force

of our strong and courageous Spanish arms.

 

In the end fifty Indian pagans,

barbarians who were bound to Satan

in their souls, died at the hand

of the enlightened Spanish soldiers.

At the stroke of midnight, our Christians brought

fire and blood upon these cruel, idolatrous

people, but I shall save it for another

day to describe their infamous idolatry.

***

[1] Presumably the Matanzas Inlet.

[2] An allusive line: “que con su bando amigo le hizo cara.” Covarrubias defines “hacer el caro” as “to tack the lateen sail to the other side of the mast, something that should not be done at full sail, being a very dangerous thing that usually brings damage”; in his entry for “Caro,” Covurribias refrences a usage from Virgil’s Aeneid (Book 3).

[3] Vincente González (Sununu 965).

[4] “Golfo,” as Escobedo renders it, although the boat would be sailing into the Atlantic, north to Guale, a coastal island along present-day Georgia.