XIII.

“I see the warrior-boy on gallant steed Spur to the battle proudly o’er the plain, His eye resolved to make the Moslem bleed,-- His bounding bosom scorns to wear a chain! His lance in rest, his armour without stain, He panteth for the mêlée hand to hand; Enough his guerdon that he strikes for Spain. Wo to the hostile ranks that dare to stand Before that fiery Chief’s dread lance and lightning brand!