'Twas eight stout warriors matched with eight, and ten with valiant ten, As Aliatare formed a band allied with Moslem men, To joust, with loaded canes, that day in proud Toledo's ring, Against proud Adelifa's host before their lord the King. The King by proclamation had announced the knightly play, For the cheerful trumpets sang a truce upon that very day; And Zaide, high Belchite's King, had sworn that war should cease, And with Tarfe of Valentia had ratified the peace. But others spread the news, that flew like fire from tongue to tongue, That the King was doting-mad with love, for then the King was young; And had given to Celindaja the ordering of the day. And there were knights beside the King she loved to see at play. And now the lists are opened and, lo! a dazzling band, The Saracens, on sorrel steeds leap forth upon the sand; Their trailing cloaks are flashing like the golden orange rind, The hoods of green from their shoulders hang and flutter in the wind. They carry targets blazoned bright with scimitars arow, But each deadly blade is deftly made into a Cupid's bow. A shining legend can be seen in letters ranged above; And "Fire and Blood" the motto runs. It speaks of war and love. In double file a company of warriors succeed; The bold Aliatares come mounted on Arab steeds. The livery that they wear is dyed in tint of crimson red; And flower and leaf in white relief its surface overspread. The globe of heaven, which many a star and constellation strow, Borne upon Atlas' shoulders, is the blazon that they show. And a Moor of Aliatar this motto does express, Written upon a streamer, "I Endure through Weariness." The Adelifas follow; a mighty race are they. Their armor is more costly, their mantles are more gay. Of bright carnation is the web, enriched with saffron streaks, And for favors there are fluttering veils upon their helmet peaks. A globe they blazon on their shields, but it is bruised and broke By a savage with a bludgeon, who deals it many a stroke; And a rod, and underneath it this motto tells the tale, All written in Arabian scrip. It says, "The Strong Prevail." The eight Azarques following these into the plaza spring, With air of haughty arrogance they gallop round the ring. Of blue and purple and pale gold are the mantles that they wear, And for plumes they carry amulets that dangle high in air. On their left arm are their targets, painted a dazzling green. The orb of heaven is outlined there on which two hands are seen, The motto, "Green is paramount," is lettered full in view; Its arrogance explains to all those targets' vivid hue. Then foams the King in rage to see his doting love was fleered, And his heart is filled with bitter thought as that proud shield appeared. And he called the warden of his keep, Celin his henchman tried, And he pointed to Azarque, and, flushed with anger, cried--