Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/235

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Your rivers pour their gold, rejoicing saw The altar, and the birth-place, and the tomb, And all memorials of man's heart and faith, Thus proudly honour'd!—Be ye not outdone By the departed!—Though the godless foe Be close upon us, we have power to snatch The spoils of victory from him. Be but strong! A few bright torches and brief moments yet Shall baffle his flush'd hope, and we may die, Laughing him unto scorn.—Rise, follow me, And thou, Valencia! triumph in thy fate, The ruin, not the yoke, and make thy towers A beacon unto Spain!

We'll follow thee! —Alas! for our fair city, and the homes Wherein we rear'd our children!—But away! The Moor shall plant no crescent o'er our fanes!

Succours!—Castile! Castile!

It is even so! Now blessing be to Heaven, for we are saved! Castile, Castile!