XXVI.

Lo! still hot Vasques urges on, With flashing eye and flushing cheek. What would he have? what does he seek? He does not heed the gold a whit, He does not deign to look at it; But now his gleaming steel is drawn, And now he leans, would hail again,— He opes his swollen lips in vain.

But look you! See! A lifted hand, And Vasques beckons his command. He cannot speak, he leans, and he Bends low upon his saddle-bow. And now his blade drops to his knee, And now he falters, now comes on, And now his head is bended low; And now his rein, his steel, is gone; Now faint as any child is he, And now his steed sinks to the knee.