In the place of helmets are they Scull caps and capouches wearing; Scapular and _Arbecanfess_ Are the armour they are bearing. Which God is the one true God? He, the Hebrew stern and glorious Unity, whom Rabbi Juda Of Navarre would see victorious? Or the triune God, whom Christians Hold in love and veneration, As whose champion Friar Jose, The Franciscan, takes his station? By the might of weighty reasons, And the logic taught at college, And quotations from the authors Whose repute one must acknowledge, Either champion _ad absurdum_ His opponent would bring duly, And the pure divinity Of his own God point out truly. ’Tis laid down that he whose foeman Manages his cause to smother, Should be bound to take upon him The religion of the other, And the Jew be duly christen’d,-- This was the express provision,-- On the other hand the Christian Bear the rite of circumcision. Each one of the doughty champions Has eleven comrades by him, All to share his fate determined, And for weal or woe keep nigh him. While the monks who back the friar With assurance full and steady Hold the holy-water vessels For the rite of christening ready, Swinging sprinkling-brooms and censers, Whence the incense smoke is rising,-- All their adversaries briskly Whet their knives for circumcising. By the lists within the hall stand, Ready for the fray, both forces, And the crowd await the signal, Eager for the knights’ discourses. ’Neath a golden canopy, While their courtiers duly flatter, Both the king and queen are sitting; Quite a child appears the latter. With a small French nose, her features Are in roguishness not wanting, And the ever laughing rubies Of her mouth are quite enchanting. Fragile fair inconstant flower,-- May the grace of God be with her!-- From the merry town of Paris She has been transplanted hither, To the country where the Spanish Old grandees’ stiff manners gall her; Whilome known as Blanche de Bourbon, Donna Blanca now they call her. And the monarch’s name is Pedro, With the nickname of The Cruel; But to-day, in gentle mood, he Looks as if he ne’er could do ill. With the nobles of his court he Enters into conversation, And both Jew and Moor addresses With a courteous salutation. For these sons of circumcision Are the monarch’s favourite creatures; They command his troops, and also In finances are his teachers. Suddenly the drums ’gin beating, And the trumpets’ bray announces That the conflict is beginning, Where each knight the other trounces.