When the long combat raged on Xeres’ plain,[84]
And Afric’s tecbir swell’d through yielding Spain?[85]
Is the lance broken, is the shield decay’d,
The warrior’s arm unstrung, his heart dismay’d?
Shall no high spirit of ascendant worth
Arise to lead the sons of Islam forth?
To guard the regions where our fathers’ blood
Hath bathed each plain, and mingled with each flood;
Where long their dust hath blended with the soil
Won by their swords, made fertile by their toil?