He pledged his knightly word,—in writing pledged it,—
Trusting that afterwards, in Portugal,
The debt and all might safely be denied;—
As if the heavens were narrower than the earth,
And justice not supreme. In short, my lord,
He went; and, proud and vain, the banners bore
That my submission marked, not my defeat;
For where love is, there comes no victory.
His spoils he carried to his native land,
As if they had been torn in heathen war