“Raise ye no cry, and let no moan
Be made when I depart;
The Moor must hear no dirge’s tone;
Be ye of mighty heart!
“Let the cymbal-clash and the trumpet-strain
From your walls ring far and shrill;
And fear ye not, for the saints of Spain
Shall grant you victory still.
“And gird my form with mail-array,
And set me on my steed;