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Banners are in the field! The chief must rise from his joyous board, And turn from the feast e'er the wine be poured, And take up his father's shield.

The Moor is on his way! Let the peasant leave his olive-ground, And the goats roam wild through the pine-woods round— —There is nobler work to-day!

Send forth the trumpet's call! Till the bridegroom cast the goblet down, And the marriage-robe and the flowery crown, And arm in the banquet-hall!

And stay the funeral-train! Bid the chanted mass be hushed a while, And the bier laid down in the holy aisle, And the mourners girt for Spain!