The Vow of the Moor Reduan

Thus said before his Lords the King to Reduan,
'Tis easy to get words, deeds get we as we can;
Remember'st thou the feast at which I heard thee saying,
'Twere easy in one night to make me Lord of Jaen?

"Well in my mind I hold the valiant vow was said;
Fulfill it, boy, and gold shall shower upon thy head;
But bid a long farewell, if now thou shrink from doing,
To bower and bonnibell, thy feasting, and thy wooing."

"I have forgot the oath, if such I e'er did plight,
But needs there plighted troth to make a soldier fight?
A thousand sabres bring, we'll see how we may thrive."—
"One thousand!" quoth the King; "I trow thou shalt have five."—

They passed the Elvira gate, with banners all display'd,
They pass'd in mickle state, a noble cavalcade;—
What proud and pawing horses, what comely cavaliers,
What bravery of targets, what glittering of spears!

What caftans blue and scarlet, what turbans pleach'd of green;
What waving of their crescents and plumages between;
What buskins and what stirrups, what rowels chased in gold,
What handsome gentlemen, what buoyant hearts and bold!

In midst, above them all, rides he who rules the band,
Yon feather white and tall is the token of command.
He looks to the Alhamra, whence bends his mother down;
"Now Alla save my boy, and merciful Mahoun!"—

But 'twas another sight—when Reduan drew near
To look upon the height where Jaen's towers appear;
The fosse was wide and deep, the walls both tall and strong,
And keep was match'd with keep the battlements along.

It was a heavy sight, but most for Reduan;
He sigh'd, as well he might, ere thus his speech began,—
"O Jaen, had I known how high thy bulwarks stand,
My tongue had not outgone the prowess of my hand.

"But since in hasty cheer I did my promise plight,
(What well might cost a year) to win thee in a night,—
The pledge demands the paying. I would my soldiers brave
Were half as sure of Jaen, as I am of my grave.

"My penitence comes late, my death lags not behind;
I yield me up to fate, since hope I may not find."—
With that he turn'd him round;—"Now blow your trumpets high!"—
But every spearman frown'd, and dark was every eye—

But when he was aware that they would fain retreat,
He spurr'd his bright bay mare, I wot her pace was fleet;
He rides beneath the walls, and shakes aloft his lance,
And to the Christians calls, if any will advance.

With that an arrow flew from o'er the battlement,
Young Reduan it slew, sheer through the breast it went.
He fell upon the green,—"Farewell, my bonny bay!"—
Right soon, when this was seen, broke all the Moor array.