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My king! my king! Now all good saints for Spain!—My noble king! And thou art there!—That I might look once more Upon thy face!—But yet I thank thee, Heaven! That thou hast sent him, from my dying hands Thus to receive his city! [He sinks back into 's arms.

He hath clear'd A pathway midst the combat, and the light Follows his charge through yon close living mass, E'en as the gleam on some proud vessel's wake Along the stormy waters!—'Tis redeem'd— The castled banner!—It is flung once more In joy and glory, to the sweeping winds! —There seems a wavering through the paynim hosts— Castile doth press them sore—Now, now rejoice!

What hast thou seen ?

Abdullah falls! He falls! The man of blood!—the spoiler!—he hath sunk In our king's path!—Well hath that royal sword