Two stately oaks stood nigh, in the full growth Of many a century. They had flourish’d there Before the Gothic sword was felt in Spain, And when the ancient sceptre of the Goths Was broken, there they flourish’d still. Their boughs Mingled on high, and stretching wide around, Form’d a deep shade, beneath which canopy Upon the ground Count Julian’s board was spread, For to his daughter he had left his tent Pitch’d for her use hard by. He at the board Sate with his trusted Captains, Gunderick, Felix and Miro, Theudered and Paul, Basil and Cottila, and Virimar, Men through all fortunes faithful to their Lord, And to that old and tried fidelity, By personal love and honour held in ties Strong as religious bonds. As there they sate, In the distant vale a rising dust was seen, And frequent flash of steel, ... the flying fight Of men who, by a fiery foe pursued, Put forth their coursers at full speed, to reach The aid in which they trust. Up sprung the Chiefs, And hastily taking helm and shield, and spear, Sped to their post. Amid the chesnut groves On Sella’s side, Alphonso had in charge To watch the foe; a prowling band came nigh, Whom with the ardour of impetuous youth He charged and followed them in close pursuit: Quick succours join’d them; and the strife grew hot, Ere Pedro hastening to bring off his son, Or Julian and his Captains, ... bent alike That hour to abstain from combat, (for by this Full sure they deem’d Alcahman had secured The easy means of certain victory,) ... Could reach the spot. Both thus in their intent According, somewhat had they now allay’d The fury of the fight, though still spears flew, And strokes of sword and mace were interchanged, When passing through the troop a Moor came up On errand from the Chief, to Julian sent; A fatal errand fatally perform’d For Julian, for the Chief, and for himself, And all that host of Musselmen he brought; For while with well-dissembled words he lured The warrior’s ear, the dexterous ruffian mark’d The favouring moment and unguarded place, And plunged a javelin in his side. The Count, Fell, but in falling called to Cottila, Treachery! the Moor! the Moor!... He too on whom He call’d had seen the blow from whence it came, And seized the murderer. Miscreant! he exclaim’d, Who set thee on? The Musselman, who saw His secret purpose baffled, undismayed, Replies, What I have done is authorized; To punish treachery and prevent worse ill Orpas and Abulcacem sent me here; The service of the Caliph and the Faith Required the blow. The Prophet and the Fiend Reward thee then! cried Cottila; meantime Take thou from me thy proper earthly meed; Villain!... and lifting as he spake the sword, He smote him on the neck: the trenchant blade Through vein and artery pass’d and yielding bone And on the shoulder, as the assassin dropt,