XI.
What! shrink ye now, false cravens!—do ye fear yon pale-faced girl?
Tigers, traitors, as ye are, dare ye touch one golden curl?
King Alonzo's gold is tempting, yet fain ye now would fly
From the calm and holy glance of that tearful azure eye.
What! shrink ye now, false cravens!—do ye fear yon pale-faced girl?
Tigers, traitors, as ye are, dare ye touch one golden curl?
King Alonzo's gold is tempting, yet fain ye now would fly
From the calm and holy glance of that tearful azure eye.