Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1822.pdf/6



The stars look'd down on the battle-plain, Where night-winds were deeply sighing, And with shattered lance, by his war-steed, slain, Lay a youthful Chieftain dying.

He had folded round his gallant breast The banner, once o'er him streaming, For a noble shroud, as he sunk to rest On the couch that knows no dreaming.

Proudly he lay on his broken shield, By the rushing Guadalquivir, While, dark with the blood of his last red field, Swept on the majestic river.

There were hands which came to bind his wound, There were eyes o'er the warrior weeping; But he raised his head from the dewy ground, Where the land's high hearts were sleeping!

And "Away!" he cried, "your aid is vain,    My soul may not brook recalling, I have seen the stately flower of Spain     As the Autumn vine-leaves falling!

"I have seen the Moorish banners wave    O'er the halls where my youth was cherish'd; I have drawn a sword that could not save,     I have stood where my King hath perish'd!

"Leave me to die with the free and brave,    On the banks of my own bright river! Ye can give me nought but a warrior's grave     By the chainless Guadalquivir!"H.