Spurred on his horse amain;
And, Santiago! cried aloud,
For Bivar and for Spain!

36 Now Alvar Fanez and his men,
Who crouched in thickets low,
Leaped up, and, with the lightning glance,
Rushed, shouting, on the foe.

37 The Moors, who saw their pennons gay
All waving in the wind,
Fled in dismay, for still they feared,
A greater host behind.

38 The Crescent falls. Pursue! pursue!
Haste--spur along the plain!
See where they sink--see where they lie,
The fainting and the slain!

39 Of fifty thousand, who at morn
Came forth in armour bright,
Scarce fifteen thousand souls were left,
To tell the tale at night.

40 The Cid then wiped his bloody brow,
And thus was heard to say:
Well, Bavieca, hast thou sped,
My noble horse, to-day!

41 If thousands then escaped the sword,
Let none the Cid condemn;
For they were swept into the sea,
And the surge went over them.

42 There's many a maid of Tetuan,
All day shall sit and weep,
But never see her lover's sail
Shine on the northern deep.

43 There's many a mother, with her babe,
Shall pace the sounding shore,
And think upon its father's smile,
Whom she shall see no more.

44 Rock, hoary ocean, mournfully,
Upon thy billowy bed;
For, dark and deep, thy surges sweep,
O'er thousands of the dead.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 194: This ballad was written to be introduced in "The
Missionary," but was omitted, as calculated to distract attention from
the leading incidents of the story. It has, indeed, no connexion
whatever with the poem.]

[Footnote 195: Banner consecrated by the Pope.]

POEMS,

INEDITED, UNPUBLISHED, ETC.

POEMS, INEDITED, UNPUBLISHED, ETC.

THE SANCTUARY:

A DRAMATIC SKETCH.

In this wise the Duke of Gloucester took upon himself the order and
governance of the young King, whom, with much honour and humble
reverence, he conveyed towards London. But the tidings of this
matter came hastily to the Queen, a little before the midnight
following; and that, in secret wise, her son was taken, her brother
and other friends arrested, and sent no man wist whither, to be
done with God wot what. With which tidings the Queen, with great
heaviness, bewaile