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Rh

That night, borne o'er the bounding seas, The vessel swept before the breeze, Loaded the air, the war-cry's swell, Woe to the Moorish infidel; And raising their rich hymn, a band Of priests were kneeling on the strand, To bless the parting ship, and song Came from the maidens ranged along The sea wall, and who incense gave, And flowers, like offerings to the wave That bore the holy and the brave.

And felt his spirit rise, And burn'd his cheek, and flash'd his eyes With something of their ancient light, While plume and pennon met his sight;