<poem> Singling his brothers from the dastard train, His rolling looks, that flash'd with stern disdain, On them he fixt, then snatch'd his hilt in ire, While his bold speech bewray'd the soldier's fire, Bold and unpolish'd; while his burning eyes Seem'd as he dared the ocean, earth, and skies:
- Heavens! shall the Lusian nobles tamely yield!
Oh, shame! and yield untry'd the martial field! That land whose genius, as the god of war, Was own'd, where'er approach'd her thundering car; Shall now her sons their faith, their love deny, And, while their country sinks, ignobly fly! Ye timerous herd, are ye the genuine line Of those illustrious shades, whose rage divine, Beneath great Henry's standards awed the foe, For whom ye tremble, and would stoop so low! That foe, who, boastful now, then basely fled, When your undaunted sires the hero led, When seven bold earls in chains the spoil adorn'd, And proud Castile through all her kindreds mourn'd, Castile, your awful dread—yet, conscious, say, When Dinez reign'd, when his bold son bore sway, By whom were trodden down the bravest bands That ever march'd from proud Castilia's lands?
