y con paso callado
el cielo vueltas dando
las horas del vivir le va hurtando.'
"Whose is that?" said Lyaeus.
"The revolving sky goes stealing his hours of life.... But I don't know," said Don Alonso, "perhaps like you, this Spain of ours makes ground sleeping as well as awake. What does a day matter? The driver snores but the good mules jog on down the appointed road."
Then without another word he jumped on his horse and with a smile and a wave of the hand trotted off ahead of them.
XVI: A Funeral in Madrid
Doce días son pasados
después que el Cid acabára