Gathering them round him to deliver Spain;
For Afric was upon her. Morning broke,
Day rush’d through clouds of battle; but at eve
Our God had triumph’d, and the rescued land
Sent up a shout of victory from the field,
That rock’d her ancient mountains.
Cits. Arm! to arms!
On to our chief! We have strength within us yet
To die with our blood roused! Now, be the word
For the Cid’s house!