fancy fed;

the good cause of Spain!

XXVIII.

Valour was harness'd like a chief of old,

Arm'd at all points, and prompt for knightly gest;

His sword was temper'd in the Ebro cold,

Morena's eagle plume adorn'd his crest,

The spoils of Afric's lion bound his breast.

Fierce he stepp'd forward and flung down his gage;

As if of mortal kind to brave the best. Him follow'd his companion, dark and sage,

As he, my master, sung the dangerous Archimage.

Preluding light, were strains of music heard,

As once again revolved that measured sand;

Such sounds as when, for sylvan dance prepared,

Gay Xeres summons forth her vintage band;

When for the light bolero ready stand

The mozo blithe, with gay muchacha met,

He conscious of his broider'd cap and band,

She of her netted locks and light corsette,

Each tiptoe perch'd to spring, and shake the castanet.

XXXIV.

And well such strains the opening scene became ;

For Valour had relax'd his ardent look,

And at a lady's feet, like lion tame,

Lay stretch'd, full loth the weight

of arms to brook; And soften'd Bigotry, upon his book,

Patter'd a task of little good or ill: But the blithe peasant plied his pruning-hook,

Whistled the muleteer o'er vale and hill,

And rung from village-green the merry seguidille,

XXXV.

Grey royalty, grown impotent of toil, Let the grave sceptre slip his lazy hold;