Castile doth press them sore—now, now rejoice!
Gon. What hast thou seen?
Her. Abdullah falls! He falls!
The man of blood!—the spoiler!—he hath sunk
In our king’s path! Well hath that royal sword
Avenged thy cause, Gonzalez!
They give way,
The Crescent’s van is broken! On the hills,
And the dark pine-woods, may the infidel
Call vainly, in his agony of fear,