Three bulls against the knight are loosed, and two come roaring on, He rises high in stirrup, forth stretching his rejón; Each furious beast upon the breast he deals him such a blow, He blindly totters and gives back across the sand to go. “Turn, Gazul, turn!” the people cry: the third comes up behind, Low to the sand his head holds he, his nostrils snuff the wind; The mountaineers that lead the steers without stand whispering low, “Now thinks this proud Alcaydé to stun _Harpado_ so?” From Guadiana comes he not, he comes not from Xenil, From Gaudalarif of the plain, or Barves of the hill; But where from out the forest burst Xarama’s waters clear, Beneath the oak-trees was he nursed, this proud and stately steer. Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil, And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil. His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow; But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe. Upon the forehead of the bull the horns stand close and near, From out the broad and wrinkled skull like daggers they appear; His neck is massy, like the trunk of some old knotted tree, Whereon the monster’s shaggy mane, like billows curled, ye see, His legs are short, his hams are thick, his hoofs are black as night, Like a strong flail he holds his tail in fierceness of his might; Like something molten out of iron, or hewn from forth the rock, _Harpado_ of Xarama stands, to bide the Alcaydé’s shock. Now stops the drum; close, close they come; thrice meet, and thrice give back; The white foam of _Harpado_ lies on the charger’s breast of black; The white foam of the charger on _Harpado’s_ front of dun; Once more advance upon his lance--once more, thou fearless one! Once more, once more! in dust and gore to ruin must thou reel! In vain, in vain thou tearest the sand with furious heel! In vain, in vain, thou noble beast! I see, I see thee stagger, Now keen and cold thy neck must hold the stern Alcaydé’s dagger! They have slipped a noose around his feet, six horses are brought in, And away they drag _Harpado_ with a loud and joyful din; Now stoop thee, lady, from thy stand, and the ring of price bestow, Upon Gazul of Algava, that hath laid _Harpado_ low. THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA. The following exquisitely tender ballad has been often imitated by modern poets: