His train of mules along the mountain side.
"O'er his swart face he slouches the sombrero,
Pistols and dagger in his belt he wears;
In his old Latin tongue he hums a ballad,
And onwards to its time he slowly fares.
"But if far southward to the strand you wander,
Where Cagliari lies, 'mid rocky bays,
There, in the hamlets, chants the darker Moro,
To castanet and tambourine his lays.