Then looking to his men, he cried, Bring forth The armour which in Wamba’s wars I wore... Alphonso’s heart leapt at the auspicious words. Count Pedro mark’d the rising glow of joy,.. Doubly to thee, Alphonso, he pursued, This day above all other days is blest, From whence as from a birth-day thou wilt date Thy life in arms! Rejoicing in their task, The servants of the house with emulous love Dispute the charge. One brings the cuirass, one The buckler; this excitingly displays The sword, his comrade lifts the helm on high: The greaves, the gauntlets they divide; a spur Seems now to dignify the officious hand Which for such service bears it to his Lord. Greek artists in the imperial city forged That splendid armour, perfect in their craft; With curious skill they wrought it, framed alike To shine amid the pageantry of war, And for the proof of battle. Many a time Alphonso from his nurse’s lap had stretch’d His infant hands toward it eagerly, Where gleaming to the central fire it hung High in the hall; and many a time had wish’d With boyish ardour, that the day were come When Pedro to his prayers would grant the boon, His dearest heart’s desire. Count Pedro then Would smile, and in his heart rejoice to see The noble instinct manifest itself. Then too Favinia with maternal pride Would turn her eyes exulting to her Lord, And in that silent language bid him mark His spirit in his boy; all danger then Was distant, and if secret forethought faint Of manhood’s perils, and the chance of war, Hateful to mothers, pass’d across her mind, The ill remote gave to the present hour A heighten’d feeling of secure delight.