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For it seem'd where Minaya his onset made, There were seventy thousand knights array'd, All white as the snow on Nevada's steep, And they came like the foam of a roaring deep; —'Twas a sight of fear and awe!

And the crested form of a warrior tall, With a sword of fire, went before them all; With a sword of fire, and a banner pale, And a blood-red cross on his shadowy mail, He rode in the battle's van!

There was fear in the path of his dim white horse, There was death in the Giant-warrior's course! Where his banner stream'd with its ghostly light, Where his sword blazed out, there was hurrying flight, For it seem'd not the sword of man!

The field and the river grew darkly red, As the kings and leaders of Afric fled; There was work for the men of the Cid that day! —They were weary at eve, when they ceased to slay, As reapers whose task is done!