Hear! wake! arise! and from your inmost caves

Pour like the torrent in its might of waves!

Who leads the invaders on?—his features bear

The deep-worn traces of a calm despair;

Yet his dark brow is haughty—and his eye

Speaks of a soul that asks not sympathy.

’Tis he! ’tis he again! the apostate chief;

He comes in all the sternness of his grief.

He comes, but changed in heart, no more to wield

Falchion for proud Castile in battle-field,