For the third time the fight begins; the bull with many a roar Turns to his foe, while from his lips run mingled foam and gore. The Moor enraged to see the beast again before him stand, Deals him the deep, the fatal wound, with an unerring hand. That wound, at last, has oped the gate through which may enter death, And staggering to the dust the beast snorts forth his latest breath. As the bull falls, the crowded square rings with a loud acclaim, And envy burns in many a knight, and love in many a dame. The highest nobles of the land the conqueror embrace; He sees the blush of passion burn on many a damsel's face. And Fame has blown her trumpet and flies from town to town, And Apollo takes his pen and writes the hero's title down. THE RENEGADE Through the mountains of Moncayo, Lo! all in arms arrayed, Rides pagan Bobalias, Bobalias the renegade. Seven times he was a Moor, seven times To Christ he trembling turned; At the eighth, the devil cozened him And the Christian cross he spurned, And took back the faith of Mahomet, In childhood he had learned. He was the mightiest of the Moors, And letters from afar Had told him how Sevila Was marshalling for war. He arms his ships and galleys, His infantry and horse, And straight to Guadalquivir's flood His pennons take their course. The flags that on Tablada's plain Above his camp unfold, Flutter above three hundred tents Of silk brocade and gold. In the middle, the pavilion Of the pagan they prepare; On the summit a ruby stone is set, A jewel rich and rare. It gleams at morn, and when the night Mantles the world at length, It pours a ray like the light of day, When the sun is at its strength. THE TOWER OF GOLD Brave Arbolan a prisoner lay Within the Tower of Gold; By order of the King there stood Four guards to keep the hold. 'Twas not because against his King He played a treacherous part; But only that Guhala's charms Had won the captive's heart. "Guhala, Guhala, My longing heart must cry; This mournful vow I utter now-- To see thee or to die." No longer free those sturdy limbs! Revenge had bid them bind The iron chain on hands and feet; They could not chain his mind! How dolorous was the warrior's lot! All hope at last had fled; And, standing at the window, With sighing voice he said: "Guhala, Guhala, My longing heart must cry; This mournful vow I utter now-- To see thee or to die." He turned his eyes to where the banks Of Guadalquivir lay; "Inhuman King!" in grief he cried, "Thy mandates I obey; Thou bidst them load my limbs with steel; Thy cruel sentinel Keeps watch beside my prison door; Yet who my crime can tell? "Guhala, Guhala, My longing heart must cry; This mournful vow I utter now-- To see thee or to die." THE DIRGE FOR ALIATAR