Heard ye the march of steel-clad hosts?” he cries;
“Children of conquerors! in your strength arise!
O high-born tribes! O names unstain’d by fear!
Azarques, Zegris, Almoradis, hear![81]
Be every feud forgotten, and your hands
Dyed with no blood but that of hostile bands.[82]
Wake, princes of the land! the hour is come,
And the red sabre must decide your doom.
Where is that spirit which prevail’d of yore,
When Tarik’s bands o’erspread the western shore?[83]