On the 25th of November, 1491, the act of capitulation was signed, and a term was fixed during which a truce was to be observed, after which, should no aid come from outside, Granada was to be delivered up to their Catholic Majesties. In vain the Moors watched for a sign of the help they had sought from the Sultans of Turkey and Egypt. No aid came, and at the end of December Boabdil sent a message to Ferdinand to come and take possession of the city. The Christian army filed out of Santa Fé, and advanced across the Vega, watched with mournful eyes by the unhappy Moors. The leading detachment entered the Alhambra, and presently the great silver cross was seen shining from the summit of the Torre de la Vela; beside it floated the banner of St. James, while shouts of "Santiago!" rose from the army in the plain beneath; and lastly, the standard of Castile and Aragon was planted by the side of the cross. Ferdinand and Isabella fell on their knees and gave thanks to God; the whole army of Spain knelt behind them, and the royal choir sang a solemn _Te Deum_. At the foot of the Hill of Martyrs, Boabdil, attended by a small band of horsemen, met the royal procession. He gave Ferdinand the keys of Granada, and, turning his back upon his beloved city, passed on to the mountains. There, at Padul, on a spur of the Alpuxarras, Boabdil stood and gazed back upon the kingdom he had lost: the beautiful Vega, the towers of Alhambra, and the gardens of the Generalife; all the beauty and magnificence of his lost home. "Allahu Akbar," he said, "God is most great," as he burst into tears. His mother Ayesha stood beside him: "You may well weep like a woman," she said, "for what you could not defend like a man." The spot whence Boabdil took his sad farewell look at his city from which he was banished for ever, bears to this day the name of _el ultimo sospiro del Moro_, "the last sigh of the Moor." He soon crossed over to Africa, where his descendants learned to beg their daily bread. There was crying in Granada when the sun was going down; Some calling on the Trinity--some calling on Mahoun. Here passed away the Koran--there in the Cross was borne-- And here was heard the Christian bell--and there the Moorish horn: Te Deum Laudamus! was up the Alcala sung: Down from the Alhambra's minarets were all the crescents flung; The arms thereon of Aragon they with Castile display; One king comes in in triumph--one weeping goes away. Thus cried the weeper, while his hands his old white beard did tear, Farewell, farewell, Granada! thou city without peer! Woe, woe, thou pride of heathendom! seven hundred years and more Have gone since first the faithful thy royal sceptre bore! Thou wert the happy mother of a high renownèd race; Within thee dwelt a haughty line that now go from their place; Within thee fearless knights did dwell, who fought with mickle glee, The enemies of proud Castile, the bane of Christentie.