"The gates were then thrown open, and forth at once they rush'd, The out-posts of the Moorish host back to the camp were push'd: The camp was all in tumult; and there was such a thunder, Of cymbals and of drums, as if earth would cleave, in sunder. There you might see the Moors arming themselves in haste, And the two main battles how they were forming fast, Horsemen and footmen mixt, a countless troop, and vast. The Moors are moving forward, the battle soon must join. 'My men stand here in order, rang'd upon a line! Let not a man move from his rank before I give the sign.' Pero Bermuez heard the word, but he could not refrain: He held the banner in his hand, he gave his horse the rein; 'You see yon foremost squadron there, the thickest of the foes, Noble Cid, God be your aid, for there your banner goes! Let him that serves and honours it show the duty that he owes.' Earnestly the Cid called out, 'For heaven's sake be still!' Bermuez cried, 'I cannot hold;' so eager was his will. He spurr'd his horse, and drove him on amidst the Moorish rout; They strove to win the banner, and compast him about. Had not his armour been so true, he had lost either life or limb: The Cid called out again, 'For heaven's sake succour him!' Their shields before their breasts, forth at once they go; Their lances in the rest, levell'd fair and low; Their banners and their crests waving in a row; Their heads all stooping down towards the saddle-bow. The Cid was in the midst, his shout was heard afar, 'I am Rui Diaz, the champion of Bivar: Strike among them, gentlemen, for sweet mercy's sake.' There where Bermuez fought amidst the foe, they brake Three hundred banner'd knights: it was a gallant show. Three hundred Moors they kill'd--a man with every blow: When they wheel'd and turn'd, as many more lay slain, You might see them raise their lances and level them again. There you might see the breast-plates, how they were cleft in twain, And many a Moorish shield lie shatter'd on the plain; The pennons that were white, mark'd with a crimson stain; The horses running wild whose riders had been slain. The Christians call upon Saint James, the Moors upon Mahound. There were thirteen hundred of them slain on a little spot of ground."[192] His victory over the Moors presented the Cid with a fair occasion of propitiating Alfonso. He accordingly dispatched Alvar Fañez into Castile with a gift to the King of thirty Moorish horses, which was accepted. Alfonso did not show present honour to the Cid, but he expressed his joy at the victory; and relieved from all penalties those who had joined him, and those who should be induced to follow his fortunes.[193] These were joyful news to the Cid and his host; and the faithful messenger brought also such tidings of their families, that, as men as well as Castilians, they were right joyful. [Sidenote: The Cid's chivalric nobleness and generosity.]