The prayer was said, the mass was sung, they mounted to depart; My Cid a moment stayed to press Jimena to his heart; Jimena kissed his hand,--as one distraught with grief was she; He looked upon his daughters: "These to God I leave," said he.... As when the finger-nail from out the flesh is torn away, Even so sharp to him and them the parting pang that day. Then to his saddle sprang my Cid, and forth his vassals led; But ever as he rode, to those behind he turned his head. BATTLE SCENE Then cried my Cid--"In charity, as to the rescue--ho!" With bucklers braced before their breasts, with lances pointing low, With stooping crests and heads bent down above the saddle-bow, All firm of hand and high of heart they roll upon the foe. And he that in a good hour was born, his clarion voice rings out, And clear above the clang of arms is heard his battle shout: "Among them, gentlemen! Strike home for the love of charity! The champion of Bivar is here--Ruy Diaz--I am he!" Then bearing where Bermuez still maintains unequal fight, Three hundred lances down they come, their pennons flickering white; Down go three hundred Moors to earth, a man to every blow; And when they wheel, three hundred more, as charging back they go. It was a sight to see the lances rise and fall that day: The shivered shields and riven mail, to see how thick they lay; The pennons that went in snow-white came out gory red; The horses running riderless, the riders lying dead; While Moors call on Mohammed, and "Saint James!" the Christians cry, And sixty score of Moors and more in narrow compass lie. THE CHALLENGES [Scene from the challenges that preceded the judicial duels. Ferrando, one of the Infantes, has just declared that the did right in spurning the Cid's daughters. The Cid turns to his nephew.]