| |
| THE STARS looked down on the battle-plain, | |
| Where the night-winds were deeply sighing, | |
| And with shattered lance, near his war-steed slain, | |
| Lay a youthful warrior dying. | |
| |
| He had folded around his gallant breast | 5 |
| The banner, once o’er him streaming, | |
| For a noble shroud, as he sunk to rest | |
| On the couch that knows no dreaming. | |
| |
| Proudly he lay on his broken shield, | |
| By the rushing Guadalquivir, | 10 |
| While, dark with the blood of his last red field, | |
| Swept on the majestic river. | |
| |
| There were hands that came to bind his wound, | |
| There were eyes o’er the warrior weeping; | |
| But he raised his head from the dewy ground, | 15 |
| Where the land’s hearts were sleeping. | |
| |
| And “Away!” he cried, “your aid is vain, | |
| My soul may not brook recalling: | |
| I have seen the stately flower of Spain | |
| Like autumn vine-leaves falling. | 20 |
| |
| “I have seen the Moorish banners wave | |
| O’er the halls where my youth was cherished; | |
| I have drawn a sword that could not save; | |
| I have stood where my king hath perished. | |
| |
| “Leave me to die, with the free and the brave, | 25 |
| On the banks of my own bright river; | |
| Ye can give me naught but a warrior’s grave | |
| By the chainless Guadalquivir.” | |
| |
