From Cordoba, Count Julian’s daughter came. Thus Eudon spake before the assembled chiefs; When instantly a stern and wrathful voice Replied, I know Pelayo never made That senseless promise! He who raised the tale Lies foully; but the bitterest enemy That ever hunted for Pelayo’s life Hath never with the charge of falsehood touch’d His name. The Baron had not recognized Till then, beneath the turban’s shadowing folds, Julian’s swart visage, where the fiery skies Of Africa, through many a year’s long course, Had set their hue inburnt. Something he sought In quick excuse to say of common fame, Lightly believed and busily diffused, And that no enmity had moved his speech Repeating rumour’s tale. Julian replied, Count Eudon, neither for thyself nor me Excuse is needed here. The path I tread Is one wherein there can be no return. No pause, no looking back! A choice like mine For time and for eternity is made, Once and for ever! and as easily The breath of vain report might build again The throne which my just vengeance overthrew, As in the Caliph and his Captain’s mind Affect the opinion of my well-tried truth. The tidings which thou givest me of my child Touch me more vitally; bad though they be, A secret apprehension of aught worse Makes me with joy receive them. Then the Count To Abulcacem turn’d his speech, and said, I pray thee, Chief, give me a messenger By whom I may to this unhappy child Dispatch a father’s bidding, such as yet May win her back. What I would say requires No veil of privacy; before ye all The errand shall be given. Boldly he spake, Yet wary in that show of open truth, For well he knew what dangers girt him round Amid the faithless race. Blind with revenge, For them in madness had he sacrificed His name, his baptism, and his native land, To feel, still powerful as he was, that life Hung on their jealous favour. But his heart Approved him now, where love, too long restrain’d, Resumed its healing influence, leading him Right on with no misgiving. Chiefs, he said, Hear me, and let your wisdom judge between Me and Prince Orpas!... Known it is to all, Too well, what mortal injury provoked My spirit to that vengeance which your aid So signally hath given. A covenant We made when first our purpose we combined, That he should have Florinda for his wife, My only child, so should she be, I thought, Revenged and honour’d best. My word was given Truly, nor did I cease to use all means Of counsel or command, entreating her Sometimes with tears, seeking sometimes with threats Of an offended father’s curse to enforce Obedience; that, she said, the Christian law Forbade, moreover she had vow’d herself A servant to the Lord. In vain I strove To win her to the Prophet’s saving faith, Using perhaps a rigour to that end