I halted not, though signs I got, dark tokens many a one;
A strong stream mastered horse and mule, I lost a poniard fine,
And left a page within the pool, a faithful page of mine.
Yet on to proud Seville I rode—when to the gate I came,
Before it stood a man of God to warn me from the same:
The words he spake I would not hear, his grief I would not see;
“I seek,” I said, “my brother dear—I will not stop for thee.”
No lists were closed upon the sand, for royal tourney dight,
No pawing horse was seen to stand, I saw no armed knight:
Yet aye I gave my mule the spur, and hasted through the town,