O who could tell what deeds were wrought that day, Or who endure to hear the tale of rage, Hatred, and madness, and despair, and fear, Horror, and wounds, and agony, and death, The cries, the blasphemies, the shrieks, and groans, And prayers, which mingled with the din of arms In one wild uproar of terrific sounds; While over all predominant was heard, Reiterate from the conquerors o’er the field, Roderick the Goth! Roderick and Victory! Roderick and Vengeance!... Woe for Africa! Woe for the circumcised! Woe for the faith Of the lying Ishmaelite that hour! The Chiefs Have fallen; the Moors, confused and captainless, And panic-stricken, vainly seek to escape The inevitable fate. Turn where they will, Strong in his cause, rejoicing in success, Insatiate at the banquet of revenge, The enemy is there; look where they will, Death hath environed their devoted ranks; Fly where they will, the avenger and the sword Await them, ... wretches! whom the righteous arm Hath overtaken!... Join’d in bonds of faith Accurs’d, the most flagitious of mankind From all parts met are here; the apostate Greek, The vicious Syrian, and the sullen Copt, The Persian cruel and corrupt of soul, The Arabian robber, and the prowling sons Of Africa, who from their thirsty sands Pray that the locusts on the peopled plain May settle and prepare their way. Conjoin’d Beneath an impious faith, which sanctifies To them all deeds of wickedness and blood, ... Yea, and halloos them on, ... here are they met To be conjoin’d in punishment this hour. For plunder, violation, massacre, All hideous, all unutterable things, The righteous, the immitigable sword Exacts due vengeance now! the cry of blood Is heard, the measure of their crimes is full; Such mercy as the Moor at Auria gave, Such mercy hath he found this dreadful hour!