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They died as would wish all foes of his should die; Small honour does the conquest boast when won from those who fly.

"And thus he saith, 'This was the sword that swept down thy brave band, Find thou one who can draw it forth in all thy Christian land.' If from a youth such sorrowing and scathe thou hast endured, Dread thou to wait for vengeance till his summers are matured."

The aged chieftain took the sword, in vain his hand essay'd To draw it from its scabbard forth, or poise the heavy blade;