From the Roncesvalles’ Strait!”
“There is dust upon his joyous brow,
And o’er his graceful head;
And the war-horse will not wake him now,
Though it browse his greensward bed!
I have seen the stripling die,
And the strong man meet his fate
Where the mountain-winds go sounding by
In the Roncesvalles’ Strait!”
Elmina enters.