Avenged thy cause, Gonzalez!
They give way,
The Crescent's van is broken!—On the hills
And the dark pine-woods may the infidel
Call vainly, in his agony of fear,
To cover him from vengeance!—Lo! they fly!
They of the forest and the wilderness
Are scatter'd, e'en as leaves upon the wind!
Woe to the sons of Afric!—Let the plains,
And the vine-mountains, and Hesperian seas,
Take their dead unto them!—that blood shall wash
Our soil from stains of bondage.
GONZALEZ (attempting to raise himself).
Come with me forth, for I must greet my king,
After his battle-field!
HERNANDEZ.
Chosen of Heaven, farewell!—Look on the Cross,
And part from earth in peace!
GONZALEZ.
God is with Spain, and Santiago's sword
Is reddening all the air!—Shout forth 'Castile!'
R
