XI.
No coward fears—eight hundred years ye've lived as slaves, not men;
But swords makes bright each chartered right—ye'll have your own again.
Brave hearts and leal of proud Castile—Revenge, on Mauritania!
Rend earth and sky with your gathering cry: Charge! Cierra Espana!
XII.
As tempests sweep the surging deep, thus on the Moorish ranks
Dashes the Spanish chivalry; they charge on van and flanks.
From Calpe's rock the thunder-shock re-echoes o'er the main—
Now, God and Santiago, for our Liberty and Spain!
XIII.
Little they think of mercy, these slaves of eight hundred years;
Never they spare a foeman, these hold true Iberian spears.
Crescènted hosts your taunting boasts this day find answer meet,
For the light of Heaven is darkened by the dust of your flying feet.
XIV.
Granàda falls! From the Castle walls tear down the Alien's rag—
On turret and Alcàzar, comrades, up with our ancient flag!
It floats from the proud Alhambra! Thank God, we've lived to see
Our ancient standard waving once again above the Free!
XV.
Pass out, ye weeping people; aye, weep—for never more
Shall ye gather in Granàda by the sound of Atambór;
For, by the rood, ye Moslem brood, we swore it in Castile,
Never again should Spain be ruled by foreign Alquazil.