With a measured pace, as the pace of one,
Was the still death-march of the host begun;
With a silent step went the cuirass'd bands,
Like a lion's tread on the burning sands;
—And they gave no battle-shout.
But the deep hills peal'd with a cry ere long,
When the Christians burst on the Paynim throng!
—With a sudden flash of the lance and spear,
And a charge of the war-steed in full career,
It was Alvar Fañez came!7[1]
He that was wrapt with no funeral shroud,
Had pass'd before, like a threatening cloud!
And the storm rush'd down on the tented plain,
And the Archer-Queen,8[2] with her bands lay slain,
For the Cid upheld his fame.
Then a terror fell on the King Bucar,
And the Lybian kings who had join'd his war;
And their hearts grew heavy, and died away,
And their hands could not wield an assagay,
For the dreadful things they saw!
S 2
